


Where It's Warm

by RainBowSasaFras



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Game: Resident Evil VIllAGE, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mommy Kink, Original Character(s), Praise Kink, Self-Insert, Slow Burn, Useless Lesbians, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29253768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainBowSasaFras/pseuds/RainBowSasaFras
Summary: “Regardless, do you really need any more persuasion then this?”, She scoffs, “Come now little Iepuraș.”, she bends down at the waist to get closer to my level, but is still taller than me so only really succeeds in giving me a lovely view of her ample expanse of cleavage.“ Why go venturing back out into the cold when you can stay in here, where it’s warm?” she asks, smirking.------------------------------------------------------A street rat makes a home for herself in Dimitrescu Castle, and finds an unexpected since of belonging. The lady of the house growing fonder of her then she intended.
Relationships: Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 132
Kudos: 414





	1. chapter 1: “Wondering Little Iepuraș”

**Author's Note:**

> Some Romanian words are used. I don't speak Romanian so if you do and I made any mistakes with these feel free to let me know.
> 
> polițist - police
> 
> Iepuraș - bunny
> 
> cel mic - little one
> 
> fotă - skirt

My ragged shoes slap against the cobbled street with the force of my strides, the cold winter air puffing from my mouth in clouds as I try to catch my breath. I can’t stop yet, The sounds of the polițist chasing me follows close behind. The bread and fruit stuffed in my coat threatens to fall with each bounding step. I'm able to shake them if only for a moment, ducking into a slim ally and slipping behind a loose fence slate. I change direction to throw them off my trail.

Looking up the mountain to my left I spot the perfect hiding spot. The castle a few yards up the mountainside that looms over the village. It always frightened me as a child, tales of vampires and ghouls keeping me at bay. I'm not a child anymore, ghost stories won't stop me from exploring its abandoned halls while I wait for the heat to fizzle out of this chase. On the way to the village edge though, a shop window catches my eye.

I must be in the wealthy part of town now. In the window stood a mannequin draped in a silk and chiffon gown adorned in gold beads and soft pink embroidery. I can’t help but stop and stare while I still have time, Its glistening material hypnotizing me. I wonder how soft to the touch it is, How smooth it would feel against my skin. Suddenly my dust covered rags feel itchier than before. What I would give to just try a dress like that on.

My daydream is cut short by the sound of pounding footsteps and shouting men. I take off for the castle before I’m spotted. Leaping over the fence that outlines the village and clumsily weaving through the thick brush up the mountain, I slip out of sight. The cover of trees offers me protection from my assailants and the sharp wind, but also blocks out the light of the evening sun. My low visibility makes my ascent up the mountain more treacherous. I lose my footing several times before reaching the tall iron fence that marks the edge of the property. It’s too tall to climb so I make my way to the gate in the hopes that it’s open.

The gate is chained shut with a padlock, but luckily the chain is long enough that the gate swings slightly open in the wind, just wide enough for my small body to slide through. The ominous creaking of the gate in the wind gives me pause, I second guess my desire to go inside. One look at the hinges tells me they are rusted over, and I'm reassured with the knowledge that the sound has an explanation.

The courtyard is overgrown and unkempt, weeds have claimed the garden that looked to at one time house rose bushes, and vines have crept up the castle walls in vein like patterns. It looks to have been untouched for years, centuries maybe. Pushing past the overgrown grass and weeds I approach the large elaborate front door. It’s mahogany, and carved with intricate designs that remind me of the embroidered trim of a traditional fotă. The knocker is large and gold, shaped in the head of a lion. Standing at only 122 cm I can barely touch the bottom of the ring with the tip of my fingers if I stretch. Laughing at my own shortcomings I try turning the handle. No luck, It’s either locked or sealed shut on the inside. Rounding around the front wall I look up to find another way in.

My glance up gives me my first real look at the structure. It towers over me now that I'm at it’s walls, almost blocking out my view of the sky completely. It’s somehow not so scary from this angle, but rather beautiful. It’s grand towers pillar up in streams of white stone, mahogany support beams crisscrossing against its surface, and gabled roof tops reflect a steely blue almost blending with what little of the sky I can see.

Finally spotting an open window low enough for me to climb into, I scale a stack of large wine barrels that set under it. I’ve never seen them so big before, they are practically as tall as I am. Jumping up from the top of the barrels, I'm able to grab on to the window frame and pull myself up and in. Falling in from the window I roll onto the floor. Staring up at the ornate ceiling above me, I catch my breath. Following a curved support beam down from the ceiling with my eyes I look along the wall opposite me. It’s covered in lavish trims and gold painted designs. My eyes wonder up and down the hall I now find myself in.

I had told myself that I would set down and eat my spoils as soon as I got inside, but this castle’s beautiful charm has piqued my curiosity. Standing slowly, I run my hand along the molded designs on the wall, following the curving gold lines. Walking up the well decorated hall I make my way to the first door I see. It too, like most of the wood in the castle, is mahogany and beautifully carved with a gold handle. Pushing past it, I'm greeted with a darker room. It’s walls are less detailed than the hall’s but no less beautiful. A large fancy fireplace sets unlit on the far wall. There is timber in it however, and I’m suddenly filled with hope that I won’t be cold tonight.

Rushing to the hearth, I empty out the food from my coat to eat soon, and dig around in my pockets for my match box and find it. Grabbing a book off the coffee table behind me I crumple some pages for kindling, and light a match. Right as i’m about to light the fire though, the sound of a door slamming somewhere else in the building startles me to a halt. My heart practically leaps from my chest, and continues to pound rapidly. I didn’t think anyone was here. Another squatter like me perhaps? The polițist having found me? My head swims with possibilities. Seeing a large wardrobe in the corner of the room, I leap for it as quietly and quickly as I can while putting out my match.

Once inside I try to get my breathing and heartbeat under control to no avail, my fear making me sound like a wheezing dying animal. If anyone were to come in the room right now they would find me without a doubt. I try to be quiet and listen. All is silent for a moment, but I soon hear faint approaching sounds that I can't place. It’s not footsteps or breathing, It’s almost a buzzing. What is it?

It gets closer and closer, growing in crescendo until I realize it’s bugs. A large, angry swarm of bugs. They crash into the doors of the wardrobe, leaving scratching and crunching sounds in their wake. I cover my mouth to keep from screaming and wait, Hoping that they will eventually leave.

Luckily the sounds of the bugs does die down slowly. They drift away as if the swarm is flying away. Too scared to check right away, I wait in the dark confines of the wardrobe a few moments more. When my breathing finally mellows to a more natural speed I brace myself to open the doors, but stop short at another unfamiliar sound. A woman's laughter chimes from just outside the wardrobe doors, teasing and sly.

When did another person enter the room? Through the whole bug attack I hadn't heard any man made sounds. In fact I'm not even sure how the swarm managed to get in the room when the door was shut. Had this woman been following the swarm this whole time, and I just couldn't hear her over the sound of the bugs?

I didn't have any more time to contemplate it as the doors to the wardrobe were forcefully flung open. Standing in its wake was a young looking woman draped in a dark hooded dress and bone jewelry. Her face was smeared and caked with blood and she stank of death and sour wine.

My body froze, in fear of what to come next and I shut my eyes tight in anticipation of the attack. My wrists are grabbed and I'm tossed harshly to the floor. The force of the fall causes my eyes to open on instinct. It's then that I see my attacker is wielding a rusted sickle, the blade just as caked with blood as her face.

My flight instinct finally kicks in as I crawl backwards away from her and spring to my feet making a brake for the door. Stumbling out of the room and running back down the hall towards the window I entered from, l hoping to escape the same way. I only got a few steps down the hall before I was cut off by the swarm of bugs. They flew from behind me, scrolled down from the ceiling, and emerged from cracks and crevasses in the floor. Congealing in front of me in a matter of moments to form a mass of skittering beetles and maggots. The mass compresses and forms a humanoid shape, finally completing their transformation into my bloody assailant.

I can no longer suppress my scream of terror, even if I'm fearful that more entities inhabit the castle halls that could hear me. Turning on a dime I sprint down the hall in the opposite direction into uncharted parts of the castle. I seemed to be heading in the direction of the front entryway, and hoped that once there I could find a way to open the front door. It’s to no avail however, as I can still hear the buzzing bugs gaining on me.

I venture a glance over my shoulder to see how close they are, and regret it instantly as I trip over a loose floorboard and meet with the floor face first. I wince in pain knowing that I’ve surly busted my lip open. That’s the least of my worries as the bugs close in. I cover my head with my arms as some kind of feeble attempt to protect it, and wait for my end.

The swarm suddenly stopped short however, I can hear them buzzing in place for a moment before dissipating all together. I fell for this before in the wardrobe, so I keep my head down to the floor and wait a bit longer.

“Get up child”, A voice breaks the silence. I didn’t recognize it as the woman who had been chasing me. Her voice had been high pitch and manic, but this voice was contemplative, smooth, and deep. But fear still has a grip on me so I shake my head and stay put. I hear the voice sigh exasperatedly and feel not the cold blade of a sickle, but instead a large gloved hand grab the back of my tattered shirt.

Knowing that whoever this was planned on lifting me up, my eyes shut tight in fear of what I would see. The hand doesn’t stop at just lifting me to my feet though, it continues to raise me up off the ground and into the air. I am lifted for much longer than I expected, this person must be very tall. As I am raised up closer to my captor, I take note that they smell much nicer than my chaser. Where that woman had smelled of death and expired wine, this one smelled of expensive perfumes and dried rose petals. Curiosity got the better of me despite my fear as I opened my eyes.

I was met with a glowing pair of golden, cat-like eyes staring back at me. Face to face with a beautiful pale woman in a wide brimmed black hat. Her hair perfectly swept into short smooth waves, her lips painted red with lipstick as opposed to blood, and her cheekbones high and sharp. I was left speechless for a moment, not expecting to be stricken with such beauty at a time like this. Feeling the intensity of her stair, I avert my eyes in nervousness. I hate prolonged eye contact. Unfortunately averting my eyes down I am faced with the woman’s ample bust, lifted and pressed perfectly in her elegant white gown. She must have a very nice corset to achieve such a shape. My face goes red at the thought and I avert my eyes again, further down to the floor and I realize just how high up I am. This woman must be over two meters tall! My eyes go wide with shock and flash back up to her face.

Her stoic expression morphs into a sly smirk, as if I had finally given her the reaction she was looking for. “Finally with us are we?”, She asks teasingly. “You've met my daughter Daniela.”, She says it more like a statement than question, but I nod anyway. Daughter? How could someone so composed and direct parent someone so unhinged? 

Daniela steps forward and into sight, she’s my assailant alright. “I caught her vandalizing, oh please can I play with her mother?”, she asks, shifting from one foot to another, unable to set still.

“Enough child, let me handle it.”, the woman answers her before directing her attention back to me. “So why, may I ask, did you decide to break into my home and tear up my things?”, she raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and waits for my answer. 

“I-”,I stammer ,“I’m so sorry. I thought this place was abandoned”, I answer honestly.

“Uh-Wha-A-Abandoned?!?”, She blinks rapidly and clutches her heart with her free hand in office. “A little worse for wear, but hardly abandoned. This is my family home.”, She clarifies.

“I really am sorry, I never would have been so disrespectful if I’d have known. I was just looking for a place to eat and get warm in peace.”, I elaborate in the hopes of garnering some sympathy.

“Poor cel mic.”, she tuts in mock sympathy and uses her free hand to push dirty red hair back from my face. My face goes red under the attention. “Tell me cel mic, why should I not just drop you to Daniela to play with, hm?”, she asks, still petting my hair.

My eyes go wide once again as my mind races to look for a good reason. Why shouldn’t I die today? I start to shake with fear as I’m left wondering. I have no family to go back to, no home, no job. I’m not even good at being a street urchin, too scared to pick pockets. What about my life is worthwhile? The lady of the house looks as though she’s losing her patience with me so I finally breathe out an honest “I don’t know”, and avert my eyes in shame.

A beat of silence passes before she speaks again. “You truly have nothing and no one, do you?”, She asks rhetorically. “I’ll tell you what”, She begins as she walks me further down the hall into the grand entryway. A dusty crystal chandelier hangs over our heads and the front door stands before us. It’s not sealed or barricaded like I had thought. Instead it is merely unlocked and opened with a flick of this woman’s wrist. The crisp chill air pours into the room, blowing in from the doorway in a harsh gust. It makes my skin sting.

“Here”, she sets me down ,“I’ll give you a choice. You can either run back to the village that despises you, continue to live on the streets and scavenge for scraps to eat, continue to go cold and hungry. Maybe you run to tell the villagers your tail of what happened to you here and what you sow in the hopes of starting a mob, but really who would believe you, the little street rat always causing trouble?”, She pokes at my insecurities ,“Or you can stay put, and we won't harm you. Instead you can work for me. You’d have a job, a home, and company that won't treat you like scum. All I ask in return is that you don’t leave the castle, and follow my orders”, she offers.

I stand there against the chilled wind and contemplate my options. Was it really true that I would not be harmed? There had to be a catch, surly. I was almost murdered moments ago. “What's the catch?”, I ask, turning around from the door to look up at her.

“Catch?”, She asks in genuine disbelief before breaking out in laughter. It chimes across the whole castel and sends warmth through my chilled body. Suddenly I want to be the cause of such a sound over and over. “Why would I need a catch to keep you?”, She asked as her laughs died down. I blush at the choice of words. “I offered you a job, remember? The ‘catch’ is you’d be working for me and my children. We’ve been in need of a handmaiden as of late. It’s been years since we’ve had one.”

“I can’t imagine why” I mumble under my breath. Her humorous tone ends abruptly as she looks down at me with a raised eyebrow. I gulp and avert my eyes.

“Regardless, do you really need any more persuasion then this?”, She scoffs, “Come now little Iepuraș.”, she bends down at the waist to get closer to my level, but is still taller than me so only really succeeds in giving me a lovely view of her ample expanse of cleavage. “ Why go venturing back out into the cold when you can stay in here, where it’s warm?” she asks, smirking.

I ponder her words trying desperately not to stare and get distracted. If I were to stay here, what's the worst that could happen? Torture? Death? Being used for target practice? And would any of that be worse than continuing to struggle out on the streets? I turn back around to the still open door and stair out at the snow that's now gathering on the ground. Freedom mere inches away. If I left now would I ever be able to come back? I imagine not. Walking forward to the threshold and taking a deep breath, I finally make my decision. Closing the door myself, I block out the sharp cold wind and the evening light along with it. It latches with a thud and the woman I now answer to locks it once again with a thunk.

“Welcome to Dimitrescu Castle cel mic. You may call me Ma’am, My lady, or Mistress.”


	2. Chapter 2: "Setting Down Roots"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The castle's new hire gets comfortable in her new surroundings.

With Night closing in Lady Dimitrescu wastes no time in showing me to what would be my new room. “It’s almost bedtime for little humans is it not?”, she had rationalized. I chose not to comment on her choice of words. After seeing Daniela transform into a swarm of bugs and back again, it’s clear to me that the ladies of the house aren't human. What they are instead is unclear to me though.

“Ah, here we are.”, she pulls me back from my wandering thoughts and stops at a simple looking door on the second floor. Pushing it open she reveals a bedroom, decorated similarly to the rest of the castle and just as dusty and disheveled as well. “Your new quarters.”, she gestured for me to go inside.

I do, and take a moment to look around, although the room is run down it also looks like it was beautiful at one time. Perhaps with some work that can be restored. My eyes fall on a rather large stain on the wall near the door to the room. It’s a red brown and looks old. I avert my eyes once I realize it’s blood and don’t comment. If Lady Dimitrescu noticed that I had stared at it, she doesn’t acknowledge it. Choosing to instead to avert my attention, she states simply, “I’ll have Willa bring up some fresh sheets for the bed.”

I turn to look at the bed in question for the first time. It’s big, likely a king, with an elaborate frame. It’s headboard and footboard both painted white and gold with a bundle of red roses painted at their centers. Like everything else in the castle it’s weathered, the paint cracks and chips and the sheets are dusty and tattered in some spots. I’ll be grateful for new ones. Although I have to admit that even in its current state the bed looks tempting. I’ve never had one before, and after sleeping on the ground in dirty allies all my life I can hardly complain about some dirty sheets.

“Do you have a preference of color?”, the smooth sound of her voice brings me back from my thoughts once again. Turning back I see her, leaned against the top of the doorframe and bent slightly to look inside.

“Hm?”, I ask, having not understood the question.

“The sheets.”, she elaborates, “Any preference?”

“Oh”, I hadn’t expected to choose “I like pastels.”, I answer simply, “Pink, lavender, mint green, anything soft relay.”

She raises an eyebrow, not expecting such an answer I imagine. “I’ll pass that on to Willa, and she’ll see what she can find. Tomorrow we will get you settled, show you the rest of the castle, outline your duties, get you new clothes, all that.”, she informs, “I’ll have one of the girls fetch you in the morning.” with that she turns to leave.

“Oh!”, I suddenly remember how hungry I am “I had some food that I left in the setting room Daniela found me in. Could I please have it back?”, I ask.

Lady Dimitrescu pauses for a moment, seemingly contemplating my question, before speaking over her shoulder to me, “I’ll have Willa bring it up with your sheets.”

“Thank you”, I respond gratefully. “Good night, My Lady”, I test the title on my tongue, deciding I like it.

She smiles at me over her shoulder, apparently pleased with my politeness, “Sleep tight little Iepuraș.”, she closes the door and I hear the sound of her footsteps as she walks away. It’s then that I realize just how much I like the little nickname she’s given me and it hits me that she still doesn’t know my actual name.

Being left alone to wait for Willa, another daughter I presume, gives me plenty of time to set and think about the decision I just made and what my new life might have in store for me. All I can hope is that I’ll be treated alright and fed well. I stop to think about what I might be doing right now if I had chosen to leave. Probably ducking into cold, dirty, snowy allies to avoid the polițist. I’d be eating my bread and fruit on the ground, digging through the trash to find something to cover me in my sleep. I’d be sleeping on stone, my fingers going blue and numb, my nose running, and feet freezing. But here I am warm, inside and safe from the elements, sitting in a quiet bedroom with new fresh clean sheets on their way and hope for tomorrow. I feel reassured that I made the right choice.

Willa knocks on the bedroom door before coming inside. She looks and smells much like her sister, but less manic. Her hair falls in dark waves, some strains caked to her blood covered face. In one arm she carries a bundle of lacy lavender sheets, and in the other a platter holding the food I had left behind in the setting room. “So you’re the one?”, She asks looking down at me. “So small, will you even be able to keep up with tasks moving around on those stubby legs?”, She wonders aloud.

“I have been running from authorities since I was old enough to steal things, so I think I’ll be fine.”, I point out, feeling a little like I’m being tested.

My response surprises Willa and she smiles. “Good, I hoped you wouldn’t be boring.”, She teases, handing me the food and sheets. “I assume you can make that yourself.”, she gestures to the bed.

I nod, “Yeah, I think I can manage.”

“Good.”, she nods back, “Well goodnight then little runner.”, she waves over her shoulder at me as she leaves. Everyone in this house just loves to remind me how little I am at every opportunity.

It was difficult for me to fall asleep. My mind rushed with thoughts of tomorrow and what it would hold for me. My body tossed and turned, not used to the plush warm comforts of a bed, and the ladies of the house were not the quietest hosts. They do not sleep themself apparently and continue to commune throughout the night. The matriarch of the family played dramatic classical music on a gramophone for hours, her daughters buzzed around the castle bickering amongst each other and laughing about nothing. It kept me up, although I had to admit it was a welcome change of pace from the shouting of dunks on the streets and crying of village babies. At least the mistress had good taste in music.

Eventually the sounds calmed if only a little. The pace of the songs playing slowed to a smooth melody, and the girls seemed to be occupying themselves with quieter tasks. The change in sounds eventually lulled me to a deep sleep.

I was awoken by a solid nock on my bedroom door early the next morning. I bolt upright, heart pounding, ready to fend off another creep looking to take advantage of the sleeping homeless girl. Taking in my surroundings I remember where I am and calm. The knocking sounds again, sounding more impatient. “Sorry”, I answer reflexively before rushing to open the door.

Daniela stands on the other side looking much different than she had looked the night before. Her face was clean and blood free, her greasy blond hair looked soft and washed, and the rather large tattoo that had adorned her forehead was gone? I stared for a moment before realizing it had been covered with makeup. “What’s the look for, shrimp? Do I have something on my face?”, she asks sarcastically.

“More like lack thereof.”, I admit without thinking. She glares daggers at me, making me avert my eyes in fear. “I just mean you look different, I just wasn’t expecting it.” I defend.

She shrugs. “I have to go to town to pick up things for you.”, she explains, with venom in her voice, “Can’t just walk around the village looking like I usually do.”

“Oh.”, I nod in understanding, “Things for me? Like what?”, I ask curiously.

“Food mostly.”, She answers honestly, “It’s been a while since we housed a human. Mother sent me to ask you if you had any food preferences or allergies, and to take your measurements for your new clothes.” She elaborates, holding up a measuring tape.

“Oh.”, I think on it for just a moment, but I can tell that Daniela is not the type of girl to wait around for answers. “Um, no allergies that I know of. I don’t really have much of a preference yet either, on the street I just sort of eat whatever I could get my hands on.”, I explain, “Although.”, I suddenly remember something from my childhood. “Once when I was a girl, an old woman passing through the village brought food to me as a show of goodwill. She made me a potato stew and It was very good, if you could pick up ingredients for that I would love to learn how to make it.”, I added hopefully.

Daniela rolled her golden eyes, “I just asked if you had food preferences, not for your life story.”, she steps forward into the room “I’ll get you ingredients, just hold still so I can measure you.”

I do as I’m told and allow her to take my measurements. She jots them down on a notepad as she goes. For the final measurement she stretches the tape from the floor to the top of my head to get my height and suppresses a chuckle at the results. “Alright I have all I need. Willa says you like pastels, anymore preferences on clothes?”, she asks.

“Oh, um” I’m once again taken by surprise at just how much agency I have here “Something practical I can work in easily, but I prefer dress and skirts over pants. Perhaps something with an apron to work in.”, I answer “Oh! And-”, I jump to add one more thing, “I know it’s not very practical, but-” I tug at my hair nervously, “If you could find something with puff sleeves It would make me really happy. I’ve never had anything like that and I’ve always wanted it.”

Daniela scoffs, “You're so easily appeased.”, she teases before walking away, “I’ll see what I can find.” she claims over her shoulder as she exits.

Unsure of what to do next I spend some time wandering my new room and snooping around. Against one of the walls is a pretty vanity adorned with a large mirror. I stare at my reflexion for a moment, It’s not often I look at myself, and I’m taken aback by just how dirty and tattered I look. My red curly hair is tangled and matted from years of not being properly cared for. My freckled face is caked with dirt and dried mud. I chuckle realizing that I really have no room to judge Daniela or Alina for their bloody faces. Digging around in the vanity drawers I find an old hair brush and contemplate brushing my hair with it. On the one hand I have no idea how long it’s been in that drawer or who used it last, but on the other it’s not like I haven’t used things out of the garbage before and It would be nice to look at least a little presentable on my first day on the job.

I sat down at the vanity and started brushing. Having never brushed my hair before, I'm not sure where to start. Going in at my scalp I try to run the brush through a mat only to wince in pain. Trying a different tactic I start again this time at the tips of the hair. Wiggling some smaller tangles free, the brush leaves my hair frizzy and wiry in its wake. Well that's not what I hoped would happen.

“Your hair is curly, you shouldn’t brush it with that.”, I jump out of my skin at the sudden voice. It’s Lady Dimitrescu bending down in my doorway once again. How can such a large woman move so quietly? “You need a wide tooth comb, and it wouldn’t hurt to wash it first.”, She elaborates.

“Oh.”, I answer shyly, “I didn’t know, I’ve never-”, I allow myself to trail off.

“Follow me Dear, I can run you a bath.”, She gestures for me to follow, “Wouldn’t want you to be filthy on your first day.”

I follow excitedly, I was only ever able to bathe in the troths around the farms on the outskirts of the village before. The prospect of a real bath is thrilling. The mistress leads me down the hall a ways to another door, “This is the bathroom that you are welcome to use at any time you need.”, she opens the door for me, revealing a large simple bathroom.

The floors are marbled in a smokey gray, the walls are tiled in a teal blue with silver trim, against one wall stood a white pedestal sink with a silver mirror hanging above it, in the center sat a clawfoot tub with a silver spout and a curving design carved into its sides. It looks different from the rest of the castle, and it takes me a moment to realize why, It’s clean. The tub that I expected to have a film of filth on it is shiny and polished, the mirror was free of dust, and the sink was clear of stains.

Lady Dimitrescu seemed to read my mind, “I had the girls work together to clean it for today.”, She explains, “Apologies if they kept you up. They tend to get fussy when I ask them to do menial labor.”

“Oh, that's alright.”, I shuffle from one foot to the other, “I should thank them later.”, I comment.

A sickly sweet smile spreads across her face at that “Yes, you should, It’s not often they do so much for a random newcomer. They are fiercely loyal to a fault, but it usually takes a lot for someone to earn that loyalty.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”, I nod, “I should thank Daniela especially, going out to get me things.”, I point out, “And to think just last night she was trying to kill me.”

Lady Dimitrescu laughs aloud, the same warm laugh from last night, and my confidence bolsters at having been the cause of it yet again. “She’s an unpredictable one, that’s for sure.”, She confirms between chuckles. Walking over to the tub she starts the water, it runs a rusty reddish brown color for a few seconds before becoming clear, “The pipes are old”, she explains as she tests the temperature. Seeming satisfied, she plugs the tub and sets down on it’s edge to wait for it to fill. Even setting down she towers over me as I stand there waiting along with her.

Once the tub reaches about half full she stands and walks over to a cabinet in the far side of the room and retrieves several glass bottles from it. Setting them on the floor near the tub, she opens one and holds it out to me “How's the scent?”, she asks.

Leaning forward, I take a whiff. It smells of lavender and oatmeal, and I close my eyes at the pleasant aroma, “I like it.”

With a nod she pours a few drops into the filling tub, and corks it once again. Setting it down, she picks up the other three bottles and presents them to me. Holding up the taller thinner of the three she explains, “This one is for washing your hair.”, She switches it with the slightly shorter bottle in her hands, “For washing your body”, and finally she holds up the last container, a short stout jar, “And this one is for moisturizing your hair, use it last, and let it set on your hair for a few minutes before rinsing it out.”, she walks me through the steps as I listen intently. I had no idea a proper bath had so many steps.

I nod along in understanding, and she sets them back down in the order I am presumably meant to use them, which I appreciate. She then turns the faucet off, as the tub is now full of sweet smelling, steaming water. “I’ll be downstairs, if you need anything ring the bell on the wall over there” She points to a bell rigged to a pulley system on the wall near the door. I recognize it as a servant’s bell, and realize it must be connected to a similar bell downstairs that would alert her if I chimed it. It seems odd for the new hire to be ringing for the lady of the house, but I appreciate the help so I nod. With that she leaves me alone to bathe in peace.

Shedding my rags, I step into the tub carefully. The water is almost too hot, it surprises me so I wince. Having only ever bathed in lukewarm water I was unprepared for the sting of the hot steamy tub, but once I adjust and settle into its depths I don’t think I can ever go back to lukewarm bathing again. The heat seeps into my sore muscles and melts away any pain that might have been lingering in them, the soothing smell calms my nerves and brings me zen, and the steam clears my sinuses and soothes my head. I sigh comfortably and sink further in, allowing myself a few moments of relaxation before I get to work on cleaning myself up.

Taking the tall slim bottle I uncork it and smell it, it smells just like the one the mistress poured into the tub and I begin to wonder what the difference is. I shrug deciding to trust her instructions and wet my nest of hair in the water before pouring out some of the contents into my hand. It feels a bit slimy and my nose wrinkles at the texture but it smells nice so I lather it in my hair without a second thought. It starts to suds up almost immediately, and the process of scrubbing it in feels nice. I can feel it breaking down the caked on grime in my hair and loosening the knots and mats. Once I feel that I've thoroughly scrubbed my hair clean, I dunk it back into the water to rinse it out using my hands to work the suds free. Next I pick up the medium hight bottle and pour it out in my hands to scrub my body and face clean. It’s texture is similar to the previous, but it’s consistency is milkier. Scrubbing my body with it, it also suds up, and I can see the dirt and mud being scrubbed off. It decapitates in the water and turns it slightly mucky. Finally I pick up the jar and unscrew it’s lid. The contents is thick and creamy, and it shares the same lavender and oatmeal scent as the rest of the bottles. Scooping some into my hand I lather my hair once again. This one doesn’t sud up like the previous, but instead stays thick and creamy as it spreads over my hair. I can already feel it working as it smooths the texture of my hair and makes it feel soft to the touch. I remember the mistress saying that this one needed to set for a few minutes so I relax in the tub once again to wait.

Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I’m filled with a calm I've never felt before. In previous baths, I’ve stood up by farm troths and splashed lukewarm water on myself to rinse off dirt, constantly on edge looking over my shoulder in fear of the farmers finding me and chasing me away or worse finding and watching me. I realize nothing in my life has been calm until now. Everything has been a terrifying life or death situation, even the most mundane things. Finding food to eat, bathing, sleeping, even just sitting down and resting. I had to constantly be on edge 24/7. Suddenly the mistress’s nickname for me begins to make sense ‘little Iepuraș’ or little bunny. I am a little bunny, always running on stress to survive, hiding from foxes and wolves, picking around for food, heart always racing, instincts always on edge. But now here I am able to unwind, able to breathe for the first time. I’m no longer a wild bunny running away at the slightest of sounds, … now I’m domesticated.

A gentle knock on the door snaps me out of my thoughts and I open my eyes. Looking down at the water I see that it’s murky and bubbly enough by now to give me some modesty so l answer, “come In.” The Lady of the house enters again, bending down to fit through the door, a towel draped over her arm.

“I realized I forgot to give you this.”, She explains setting the towel on top of the cabinet. She turns back to me and notices that I still have the moisturizer in my hair. “You remembered to let it set. Good girl.”, She praises. I’m embarrassed to admit how much of an effect those simple words have on me so all I can do is nod. “It’s still offaly tangled though.”, She comments, opening the cabinet once again she pulls out a comb, “combing it through while it’s still in your hair can help.”, she sets down on her knees on the floor behind me, “May I?”

I’m speechless at first. The lady of the house offering to comb my hair? Once again, like with the bells it feels like an odd role reversal, surly the matriarch has better things to do than tend to her own help.

“Don’t get used to this, I’m merely preparing you for your first day. You’ll be the one working for me soon enough.”, She points out as if reading my mind again, and I can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Alright”, I finally confirm, heart beating fast at the prospect of what's about to happen. The only time anyone has touched me is to restrain me or hit me, I’m not sure how I will react to non-violent contact. My body shakes a little under the stress.

My nerves are apparently not lost on the mistress however, as she gently places a hand on the top of my head to pet my hair reassuringly. “I could just show you how to do it yourself if you like.” She offers me an out. I think about it for a moment before shaking my head no, as scary as it is I do need to face this fear. With that as confirmation, she sets to work on my hair. She starts at the ends of the hair, holding pieces of it with her other hand so as not to pull my scalp. Slowly and gently she works the comb through my wet hair, wiggling tangles and mats free one by one. Eventually she is able to run the comb from roots to ends without catching. It feels really nice I've realized, to have someone comb your hair. It’s so nice that my eyes start to drift closed. She continues the mensurations even after my hair is tangle free. Until she notices that I'm falling back to sleep. “Not slacking off on me already are you, sel mic?”

I open my eyes and set up slightly, “Oh, I'm sorry. I hadn’t noticed I was dozing off. Thank you for the help, my Lady.”, I run my hand through my now silky hair. I’ve never been able to run my fingers through it like this, and with the mats gone it’s like a weight was lifted off my neck. It feels so nice.

“Of course sel mic”, she stands, “Just rinse out your hair and go dry off when you're done.”, she walks over to where she left the towel and picks up a smaller, softer looking, towel that I hadn’t noticed was on top. “Use this one to dry your hair and the other for your body, It’s not healthy for your curls to get dried with a fuzzy towel like that-”, She points to the larger towel.”-a smoother fabric is better for you. Also you will want to dry it like this,”, she demonstrates a scrunching motion on her own hair, “You don’t want to rub or squeeze, but instead blot the water away. It will take longer, but your curls will thank you.”, She explains.

Again I listen to her instructions intently and take mental notes of them all. It strikes me how much she knows about hair care, but I chose not to comment on it at the moment. Instead I simply nod and follow along. “Yes Ma’am”, I confirm my understanding.

“Good girl.” she repeats those words again, and this time I can’t suppress a shiver. She smirks, but doesn’t speak on it. Instead she walks to the door, “Daniela is almost home, she will bring you a new change of clothes once she arrives.”, She explains before walking out of the room to leave me alone once again.

After rinsing my hair I step out of the bath and unplug the drain, I watch the swirl of the water as it descends into the depths. Walking over to the cabinet, I first pick up the larger towel and wrap it around myself. The material is fluffy and soft, and smells freshly washed. It’s comfy against my skin, and soaks up the water off my torso like a sponge. Taking the smaller towel I can feel the difference in fabrics immediately. The smaller one is softer and smoother, less absorbent but also gentler to the touch, more like cotton. Following the mistress’s instructions I hold the towel under my hair and gently scrunch upwards, lightly squeezing the water out without rubbing or pulling. It takes some time, but eventually my hair is mostly dry. Taking the comb the mistress left behind, I run it through my hair once more to smooth out the little tangles that emerged during the drying process. I’m amazed by my hair’s texture. My curls are shiny and bouncy, the friz is gone, and even the color looks more vibrant. I spend some time standing there in front of the mirror admiring my glossy hair and clean clear skin while I wait for my body to finish drying. I’ve never enjoyed my own reflection so much.

Daniela arrives shortly after with what is to be my new uniform. She hands it to me at the door and leaves without a word. It seems like she’s in a worse mood than before and I want to ask if anything happened in town, but I keep my question to myself. The clothes she gave me include new undergarments as well. A pair of soft white cotton bloomers, white stockings, and a silky white camisole. The dress is a simple, long, maid’s dress in a baby pink with a white frilly apron and puff sleeves. I squeal with excitement and rush to put it all on.

Once dressed I stand back to see as much of myself in the mirror as possible. The skirt flows around my legs is streams of sugary pink and cloud white. I can’t help myself, I’ve always wanted to do this. I begin twirling in the middle of the bathroom, letting the skirt spin and twirl, the layers of ruffles flowing up in the movement. A bright smile spreads across my face and I imagine music playing as I dance around the tiled floor. I hear the classical music the mistress was playing the night before in my head, it’s smooth melodies guiding my movements. I twirl and twirl, watching the skirt fluff up higher the faster I go. I laugh with joy as I begin to get dizzy and humorously lightheaded. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy as I am at this moment.

It’s abruptly cut short however when my bare foot slips on a small pool of water that had dripped on the floor from the bath. My dizzy and frazzled brain not working fast enough to catch myself, I fall backward and shut my eyes waiting for the impact of the cold marble floor. Instead I fall against something soft, plush, cold, and covered in a soft cottony fabric. A leather bound hand catches me by the shoulder to steady me. “Having fun are we?” A smooth, amused voice asks me from above.

I swallow, realizing instantly who it is, “Im sorry Ma’am. I’m just excited to have new clothes for the first time.”, I admit, blushing when I realized I had fallen against her thighs. My head is still too fuzzy to stand on my own yet though, so I stay put against my better judgement.

“I can see that.”, She laughs. “And look at those pretty curls.” She sighs and runs her fingers through my hair, her sharp nails scratching my scalp even through the glove. I can’t help but close my eyes and lean into the touch. Physical affection is new to me, but i’m already starting to like it.

“The dress looks nice, but there’s one more thing you need.”, She steps back and reveals a new pair of shoes, brown Mary Jane's, that she had been holding with her free hand behind her back. They are shiny and look well crafted.

“Thank you, my lady.”, I take them from her and slip them on, latching the buckle around the ankle to keep them in place. They are comfortable and feel sturdy, perfect to work in.

She smiles, and gestures to the bathroom door. “Now that you’re all dressed it’s high time you see the rest of your new home, and learn the parameters of your new job don’t you think?” She asks as if it’s a question.

I can do nothing but follow as she leads me out of the bathroom and into my new life.


	3. Chapter 3: "Where Would You Like Me To Start?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanna thank everybody who's left me kudos and kind comments on this fic, It's been so fun to write. I wasn't expecting so many people to enjoy it, as It's vary much just a shameless self-indulgent fantasy of my own. It's nice to see that others are enjoying it as well. Sorry this chapter is so short and boring, It's kind of just a transition chapter from the previous one to the next. I promise the next chapter is coming soon, and will be much more exciting.

The castle is a weaving mass of halls and rooms. I follow behind the mistress like a lost dog, eyes roaming over everything around me. I try my best to listen to her talking about the castle’s history while also committing everything I see to memory, but to no avail. I just know that I'm going to end up getting lost at least a few times. Each room seems to be more disheveled the further south we venture in the building. The south wing houses a few rooms that have even begun to crumble away, holes in the stone walls, floors blown out to what I assume is a cellar, and ceilings falling down. We don’t spend much time in this wing, moving on to the east wing quickly.

“I would advise staying away from the south wing.”, She explains, “We don’t even use it anymore, It’s floors are rotted and unsafe for fragile little humans.”

I nod along, “Yes Ma’am”

“Good girl.” She praises, much to my joy and embarrassment. We move through the east wing with ease as she shows me the different rooms. The east wing is mostly comprised of servant’s areas, storage rooms, large walk-in pantries, a work room that looks equipped to make clothing in, and a laundry room. Down a flight of stairs she shows me the kitchens and servant’s dining area. “This is where you’ll be able to prepare your own food and have meals.”, she explains.

“I won't be preparing food for anyone else?”, I ask, cocking my head to the side, curiosity.

She snickers under her breath, “No, not yet at least. My daughters and I have a rather particular diet, one that you’re not quite ready to prepare. For now we’ll continue to feed ourselves.”, she elaborates. I want to ask, but I don’t choose instead to stay quiet as she explains.

Moving on we circle around, back to the entryway, essentially ending our tour. My heart sinks a little as I realize that the tour is over and yet I retained almost none of the information I was just given. Yup, I will surely be getting lost quite often it seems. Perhaps I can charter a map in my free time, though I know next to nothing about map making. Will I even have any free time I wonder, or will my servitude be required 27/7? I’ve never had anyone else manage my time before, the thought making me a bit uncomfortable.

Once back in the entryway Lady Dimitrescu calls upon her daughters to join us. I hear the tell tale sounds of bug swarms as they approach. Three young women form before us, Daniela and Willa I recognize and the third face is new. She looks similar to her sisters, but sports hair as red as my own and a slightly rounder face. She looks down at me with a blank expression, sizing me up It would seem. I offer a smile as friendly as I can manage, and she merely stairs back. Shifting uncomfortably under the prolonged eye contact, I unknowingly shuffle closer to the mistress.

“You already know Daniela and Willa, but I think a more proper introduction is In order don’t you think sel mic?” Lady dimitrescu nudges me forward with an amused smile, “After all, you’ve been here since last night and we still don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, right”, I rub the back of my neck nervously “It’s Glinda. I don’t remember my family name, as I lost my family as a baby.”, I announce myself. All fore women seem to consider the name for a moment. Daniela scrunches her nose, apparently unpleased.

“Hm. It’s pretty.”, the mistress comments, holding her own chine in thought “I think I prefer little Iepuraș. What do you think?”, She leans over, regarding me with a raised eyebrow.

I blush under the look and fidget from one foot to the other, “I think I like the nickname, Ma’am. Whatever you want to call me really.” I mentally kick myself for sounding so pathetic and agreeable, like a doormat. Daniela and the red head both snort in laughter, Willa remaining quiet, although I can see she is amused.

My shame is forgotten when I see a pleased smile spread across the mistress’s face though, “Good, I was hoping you’d agree.”, she turns her attention to the third sister, “This is Daciana.” She introduces her, “My youngest.”

Daciana stands up straight at the mention of her name. Raising an eyebrow at me, she looks like she is trying a little too hard to look like her mother. “And this is your new pet, Mother?”, she asks with sass ringing in her voice, “A little odd that she looks so much like me isn’t it?”, she pesters.

Willa elbows her in the side and gives her a look, shaking her head, “She’s cool”, I can barely hear her whisper to her younger sister. My confidence can’t help but be bolstered, Willa thinks I’m cool.

The mother of the home steps forward to address her youngest daughter, “Don’t be a jealous baby Dear, it doesn't suit you.”, She sighs exasperatedly, “How low must your self worth be if you’re jealous of the new help, honestly?”, she breathes out in a board tone.

Daciana looks down at the floor in shame, fists clenched at her sides, “Don’t go throwing a temper tantrum now.” Her mother speaks up again, “You know you're irreplaceable to me. You and all your sisters are.” She tips Daciana’s head up to look at her, “Well, except maybe Daniela.”, she teases with a wink.

“HAY!” Daniela cuts in, playfully offended.

The mistress laughs, “You know how much trouble you cause me Dear, don’t even try to pretend.”

“Yeah, yeah”, Daniela waves her off, but I can see a gleam of amusement in her eyes as she does so.

I think I’m beginning to understand these women and their family dynamic a bit more. I can’t help the smile on my face as I see them interact with one another. I’ve never had a family of my own, so these interactions are new to me. I’ve never seen people so in tune with one another, or so dedicated to each other. It’s refreshing, and entertaining all at once. I’ll be the first to admit the mistress’s daughters frighten me, but perhaps with time they will grow on me.

“Now, with introductions out of the way, we can get you started on the job.” Lady Dimitrescu puts her hands on my shoulders, “Your tasks include simple house keeping, cleaning, washing cloths, gardening and the like, serving me tea each night, fulfilling requests from the girls, and generally caring for us as well as the castle and it’s grounds.” She explains, “Your tasks will expand to things like food preposition, and working in our wine distillery once you’ve been here a while and gotten more comfortable.”, she adds, “Are you following?”

“Of course Ma’am”, I nod, struggling slightly to keep up with her fast paced explanations, but not wanting to make that obvious.

“Good. Let me show you where the cleaning and gardening supplies are then.” She leads me away from the front hall, and the girls to instead show me to a rather large walk-in closet near the front of the castle. Inside are typical cleaning supplies, a broom and dustpan, mop and bucket, feather dusters of varying lengths, washcloths, large jugs of vinegar, and bottles of various soaps, all of which are covered in a thin film of dust and cobwebs. I wonder when the last time someone used them was. I also wonder if I’ll even know what to do with them. Deciding that I will learn with experience, I follow the mistress to our next destination.

After showing me the cleaning supplies, she leads me out the west exit of the castle, out to a small shed standing a few yards out from the castle. Inside is the gardening supplies. The gardening tools are less dusty than the cleaning supplies inside, which confuses me at first until I see that the blades of the tools are covered in old dried blood. Hedge trimmers, sickles, even a chainsaw, all coated in reddish brown stains from blood and rust. I swallow harshly at the implication, and look to Lady Dimitrescu with a questioning expression.

She pays no mind to my slight panic and instead just sighs “I asked them not to use the garden tools.”, she mumbles, irritation in her voice. “It looks like Daniela will have to go back to town to get you new tools. Don’t touch these ones, wouldn’t want you to get tetanus. I’ll have the girls throw them out and get you new ones.”, she explains. I decide not to ask any questions, and instead just nod.

“Now-”, She closes the shed door and starts walking me back to the castle “do you have any questions?”, she asks, nudging into the castle door.

I had so many questions, but none that I feel I should be asking just yet. What did she mean when she said I wouldn’t be ready to prepare her and her daughter’s food yet? Why am I the only staff member the castle has had in years? Why is there so much blood in the castle? I’ve lived in the village all my life, so why have I never seen any of these women before? Why was I offered this job in the first place? What happened to the south wing, was it simply old age or something more? All these and more swam through my head and all made my nerves stand on end, but instead I simply asked, “Where would you like me to start?”


	4. Chapter 4: “Work Related Injury”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prank goes wrong, and Glinda pays for it.

The first few weeks were difficult. An adjustment period the mistress had called it. This was my first real job and it was going to take some time to get used to. I spent most of my time, those first few weeks, getting lost in the corridors of the castle, mistakenly mixing up soap types, and clumsily dropping mop buckets that I would then have to clean. It was confusing and grueling, yet somehow still more relaxing than my typical day on the street.

Eventually I started getting into a sort of flow. I'd wake early each morning and bath, get dressed, go down to the kitchens for breakfast, serve the mistress her morning tea, and then set to work on cleaning. Since I couldn’t garden or prepare the family’s food just yet, I focus my energy on deep cleaning each room of the castle one by one in the hopes of restoring the building to its original beauty. Once a ‘room of the day’ was chosen, I’d spend that whole day cleaning the room from top to bottom until it was time for the lady of the house to have her evening tea time.

Every now and then, one of the girls would have something for me to do that would break my flow of work. I might help one of them get dressed for the day if they were feeling lazy, usually Daniela. Or sometimes I would retrieve something from the library for Willa, or Lady Dimitrescu might ask me to do laundry usually about once a week. For the most part Daciana left me alone though, it was rare for me to even see her some days. I got the feeling that she still didn’t quite like me, but I held out hope that would change with time.

Today was a big project, the main hall. It was one of the largest rooms in the castle, aside from the ballroom, library, and the parlor attached to Lady Dimitrescu’s bedroom, all of which I hadn’t touched yet. The entryway had tall ceilings reaching up past the second story, large support beams with cobwebs gathering in the corners of each, and of course the large crystal chandelier hanging high overhead. After cleaning all that I could reach with my little step ladder, sweeping and mopping the floor, dusting each corner and crevice of the room’s walls up to a point, I began to wonder how I was going to reach the rest of the room.

Stepping back and staring up at the chandelier, I glared at it as it teased me. It was covered in the tick layer of dust and grim, preventing the light from shining through it. At first glance you might not even realize it’s crystal. But I just knew that if it was clean it would shin and sparkle so pretty. But hanging from a two story height, not even the lady of the house herself would be able to reach it. How had servants of the past cleaned it? I wondered. Surely they had. I tilt my head slightly in thought, not taking my eyes off the chandelier.

I was so consumed with thought that I hadn’t notice someone approaching from behind until I heard a voice in my ear. “What are we looking at?”, Lady Dimitrescu inquiries, crouched down to at my level, or as close to it as she can shrink herself to be. I leapt up in shock, not expecting her to be so close, practically jumping out of my skin. She laughs “Sorry, I did call your name before approaching. You must not have heard me.” She explains, but the mirth in her voice tells me that spooking me wasn’t entirely an accident. “What’s on your mind, little Iepuraș?”, she asks.

“I’m just wondering how I’m meant to clean up so high.”, I admit. “Do we have a taller ladder than this?”, I ask, gesturing to the step ladder next to me.

“Hm, we do, out hanging up on the outside of the garden shed.”, She answers. “Although It’s been out there in the elements for some time, I’m not sure how much I would trust it not to break and send you falling. I’ll have to add that to the shopping list it would seem.” she elaborates, “You might just have to leave the entryway like this, until we’re able to pick up what you need.”

I nod in understanding, but I must look disappointed while doing so, because the mistress continues.

“The chandelier, however, can come to you.”, walking over to the wall next to the front door, she unlatches a heavy chain rigged up to a pulley system. Following the chain with my eyes, I follow it up to the ceiling and over to the chandelier. As the mistress slowly gives the chain slack, the chandelier lowers. Looking back to her in surprise, I'm taken aback by how strong she must be. The chandelier is large, and made from metal, crystal, and glass. The latch that usually holds it in place looks thick and sturdy, most likely made steel. If I had to guess, It would usually take a group of at least six strong young men to pull something like this off. Yet here she was gently lowering this vast chandelier with ease. I try not to stare at the muscles working and flexing under her well fitted gown.

She lowers it down as low as she can without letting it hit the floor. The lowest hanging crystal mere millimeters from the hard wood, and the highest point of the base low enough for me to reach with my step ladder. Once in position Lady Dimitrescu re-locks the heavy latch to hold it in place. “There.”, she releases the chain and dusts off her hands, “Within reach now.”, she smirks.

I smile back at her, suppressing a blush, “Thank you my lady”

“It’s nothing.”, She breathes, walking over to the curved stairs that would take her to the second floor. “I’ll be back to lift it back up once you’re done”, she calls over her shoulder as she begins her ascent.

With that I set to work. Deciding that it would be easiest to start in the center and work my way out, I weave my way through the dangling streams of dusty crystal and glass to the heart of the chandelier. For once I do not curse my tiny frame, as my small stature makes navigating the fixture quiet easy. Once at my destination I start the long process of dusting away the cobwebs that lace through the dangling adornments. Once those are cleared out of the way, I can begin the process of polishing each individual crystal.

I hum to myself as I work, brushing away dusty webs as I get lost in tunes. Without realizing it, I start to hum a song that I heard the mistress play one night, my voice reverberating off the chandelier and echoing in the large, high ceilinged room. Feeling a pair of eyes on me, I look up at the second floor landing that overlooks the entryway. There Lady Dimitrescu stood, leaned against the railing watching me with a fond expression that I can’t quite place. Regardless, it made me blush. I try not to let her attention distract me from my task, but some part of me also wants her to keep watching so I continue humming.

Feeling another intrusion, something brushing against my shoulder this time, I whip my head around to see what it was. My heart leaps from my chest and plummets to the floor when I see it. A large, fat, hairy spider swung from the base of the fixture near my head! Panic overtakes me as I leap up in fear, hitting my head on the chandelier. Scurrying away as fast as my clumsy legs will allow, I try my best to back up out of the fixture to safety. In my panic, I tangle myself in one of the streams of crystal. It wraps itself around my ankles and thighs, sending me tumbling backward onto the floor. The force of my fall snaps the strand right off the chandelier and the glass and crystal shatter on impact with the floor. The tiny shards shred my uniform and cut up my legs.

I wince loudly and bite my tongue so as not to cry out in pain. The cuts sting, the dirty surface of the uncleaned crystal pushes dust into the wounds. Tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision, but still I don’t cry out. I hear Daci’s voice, laughing at me as she forms before me. The spider joins the colony of bugs that make up her form. Once revealed I see she sets, cross-legged, atop the base of the chandelier.

In an instant Lady Dimitrescu is at my side. She moves much faster than I’d have expected. “Daciana Francesca Dimitrescu!”, her voice booms through the castle, silencing Daciana’s laughter and attracting the attention of her other daughters. She carefully untangles the metal wire that had once held the strand of crystals from my bleeding legs. She’s gentle, but I still wince when she has to touch my cuts to lift my legs out of the way.

Once I’m free, my flight response is still in full swing, the adrenaline still pumping, so I use my arms to scoot myself further away from Daciana and the chandelier, smearing blood across the floor I had just cleaned earlier that day. The mistress stops me with a hand on my back, “It’s alright”, she whispers, “It will be alright now, but please stop moving, you’re making it worse.” I look down at my legs and realize she’s right. My feeble attempts to get away have smeared the glass shards across my legs resulting in more cuts.

Actually looking down at my legs for the first time, my breathing goes short. Realizing the severity of my cuts, my heart starts to pound. But there is her soothing voice again, there to make everything better. “Shh shh shh”, she soothes, rubbing my back “I’m here, It will all be alright. I know it hurts, I know it looks bad, but it’s just cuts. None of them look too deep, all we need to do is get you up off the glass and make sure none is stuck in your skin. Can I pick you up?”

I nod vigorously, grateful for the warning. She gently brings her free arm under my knees. The cuts that she touches sting, but not too bad. With one arm around my back and the other lifting my knees, she carefully lifts me up bridal style. “Do you think you can stand up on your own?”, she asks, “It will make removing shards from your legs easier.” I nod once again so she carefully sets me down on my feet just outside the mess of glass and blood.

Daciana climbs down from her perch on the chandelier wearing a guilty expression. She approaches us cautiously “Mother, I’m sor-”

“I am not the one you should be apologizing to!”, the mistress’s soft gentle voice is once again replaced with one that reverberates through the whole building as she interrupts her daughter. “You may apologize to Glinda after I get her cleaned up, not a second sooner. Until then I want you out of my sight.” She sneers, sporting a look that could kill. Tears well in Daciana’s eyes as she runs from the room. I can’t help but feel bad for her, even now. She only wanted to pull a prank, how could she have known it would end so measly.

With Daciana gone, Lady Dimitrescu sets to work. She sits on the floor next to me and bunches up the tattered end of my skirt to the side. “Hold that up for me.”, she commands gently. I do without a word. “I have to touch you to inspect the cuts for shards, is that alright?”, she asks before starting. I nod once again, feeling a little self conscious. If i’d have fallen on broken glass out on the street I would be doing this bit on my own. It’s going to take some time for me to get used to others caring for me.

The mistress holds me by the hips and turns me slightly to look at the backs of my legs as they are the most damaged. I glance over my shoulder and see her squinting at the cuts. “Willa!”, she calls out. Willa rushes from around the corner where her and Daniela had been watching from.

“Yes dark mother.” Willa addresses her formally, probably not wanting to get on her bad side the way Daciana had.

“Go fetch me my reading glasses, Dear.”, her mother responds. Willa nods once and scatters in a cloud of bugs before rushing up the stairs. “I see a rather large piece sticking out of your thigh so I’m going to remove it.”, she warns me, “It might sting.” Bracing a hand against my thigh, she uses the other to gently pull a shard from my skin. She was right, it does sting, but I bit my tongue and shut my eyes against the pain instead of crying out. Crying out in pain is a sign of weakness, before living here it would attract unwanted attention from those who might do me more harm.

“So quiet.” Lady Dimitrescu comments. I open my eyes to see her looking up at me from where she's crouched down low by my legs. “Brave girl”, her eyebrows scrunch together in sympathy.

I want to fidget under the effects of the praise, but I know I should hold still. So I ring the skirt fabric in my hands and look away instead. Luckily at that moment Willa arrives with the mistress’s reading glasses. They are sleek, with a thin black frame that's painted blood red on the inside. The sides of the frames are connected by a silver chain strung with red beads, presumably so that she can wear them around her neck for conveniences. They are ever so slightly too small for her face, so she has to cast her eyes slightly downwards to look through them, which I suppose makes sense for reading glasses.

After putting them on and thanking Willa and dismissing her, she turns her attention back to me. “I'm going to get started on the smaller pieces, so be ready sel mic.”, she warns yet again, looking up at me over the top of the glasses. I can’t help it this time, I shiver, unprepared for such a look. Something about the addition of the glasses makes her gaze more effective. She gives me a knowing smirk before casting her eyes back down at my legs.

The process of removing the tiny shards of glass and crystal is long and painful, but I still manage to stay quiet. In order to prevent more shivers, I keep my eyes forward or closed while I wait for the mistress to finish. At some point she takes off her leather gloves to gently pick out the pieces that were too small for her to get at with the gloves on. Using her nails like tweezers, she's able to remove the smallest pieces without causing too much pain. Eventually she holds me by the hips once again, turning me this way and that, checking each cut to ensure that she hadn’t missed any pieces.

With a relieved sigh she releases me, “Good news little Iepuraș, your pretty lags are shard free.”, she removes her glasses and lets them hang around her neck. I try not to think about the fact she called my legs pretty. “The bad news, however, is that because the crystals were so dirty we must now disinfect all those cuts. Wouldn’t want you getting an infection.”, she continues.

I nod along, not fully understanding why that’s bad news. She leads me upstairs to my bathroom and sets me on a small wooden stool that had been sitting in the corner of the room. Walking over to the cabinet again she retrieves a brown glass bottle, a large roll of bandage, and two washcloths. I watch curiosity as she returns to my side with the items and sets down on the floor once again. Noticing my confused expression she explains, “It's peroxide. It will clean all of the dirt and dust from your wounds, but unfortunately it's going to hurt.” She hands me one of the small rags, “it might help if you bite down on this.”

I swallow in fear. Is it truly going to hurt so badly that I need something to bite down on? I take the rag without a word and brace myself for the worst. Putting the cloth in my mouth nervously, I bite down on it tentatively and wait for further instruction. The mistress sighs and snatches the rag back out of my mouth. She twists it up tight into the shape of a thick rope, as if she were going to snap it at someone to strike them. For just a moment I think she’s going to, until I see her hold it out in front of my face. “Bite” She commands. Not needing to be told twice, I do as I'm told. Biting down on the fabric with more force this time, I feel a little silly, almost like a horse biting down on a metal bit.

Once the rag is in place, she releases it, and hikes up my tattered skirt again. “Hold” she instructs, passing the skirt to me, which I take. She then lifts one of my feet off the floor and sets it in her lap. She removes my shoe, and the shredded and bloody remains of what was once my stocking. Setting my foot back down her lap, she picks up the bottle and uncorks it. Setting that aside for now she picks up the other rag and gently holds it under my thigh, to catch any dripping liquid I realize. Picking the bottle back up with her free hand, she holds it over my thigh. “It’s alright to cry if you need to. You don’t have to be the brave little silent warrior anymore.”, she comments before pouring out a little of the bottle’s contents on my wounded flesh.

It’s a good thing that she encouraged me to cry out, because there is no way I could stand to be silent now. This liquid must have been the work of the devil! It was somehow ice cold, and felt like liquid fire all at the same time. It seeped into the cuts and sizzled and bubbled like it was going to boil my flesh right off my bones. I couldn’t help but to reflexively try to pull my leg away, but the mistress held it in place firmly by the ankle once she was able to set the bottle back down. Tears poured down my face and I shut my eyes tight against the pain, biting down on the rag in my mouth with force.

She held tightly to my ankle until I stopped squirming. “I know.”, she soothed, “I know how painful it is, but trust me when I say it’s an all too necessary evil.”, she lectures. “If we left the wounds dirty like this, they would surely get infected, which would be more painful in the long run. In fact with how completely covered in cuts your legs are, if they were to get infected, you might even have to lose the appendages entirely.”, she explains, “And we can’t have that. What use would you be like that?”

I feel cornered, she’s probably right, but the alternative is also painful. I’ve gotten infections before and they are just as offal as she’s making them out to be. I have a scare on the back of my right forearm where I was forced to cut out infected tissue. I don’t want to have to do that again, especially with my whole legs, so I try to keep my squirming under control as she continues the process. She works her way down my leg, turning it to each side so she can make sure every cut gets covered. All the while I cry and clench my teeth, holding the edge of the stool so tightly my knuckles go white.

Finally she sets me foot back down on the floor and I take a deep breath to calm myself down. My leg continues to sting, but the feeling is slowly dying down. “Don’t get too comfortable. We still have to do the other leg.”, she warns, and I stiffen once again.

Repeating the whole process with the other leg somehow feels embarrassing. It’s like I stuck my hand on a hot stove and removed it in pain, only to then be stupid enough to try it again with the other hand. I’ve done it once before already so you would think it would be a little bit easier, but no. I still scream and cry, still have to force myself to not wiggle, still bite down hard on the rag. Luckily though, the mistress does at least work a bit faster with this leg, having done one already, so the agony doesn’t last quite as long.

Finally she closes the bottle of devil liquid and sets it back down. Picking up the roll of bandages, she starts to unroll it a bit. “Now comes the easy part.”, she offers, beginning to wrap the bandage around my leg working from my upper thigh down to my ankle. Once she reaches my ankle she stops wrapping and instead extends one of her fingernails like a blade and uses it to cut the rest of the bandage roll away before retracting it back again to its original length. I know that this display should frighten me and raise even more questions about what the mistress even is, but in all actuality I simply find it fascinating. It extends and retracts like cat claws. I must be an idiot for thinking this, but I find it kind of cute. After tying off the bandage to hold it in place, she sets my foot back down and picks up the other to repeat the process on it. 

Once I'm all bandaged up I start to feel much better, with my cuts now clean and hidden away. We both stand and I get to work putting the materials away. The mistress tries to stop me, offering to do that herself, but I shake my head. “You’ve been serving me since I got here it would seem. I’m supposed to be serving you.”, I rationalized. To this she simply smiles and steps back to allow me to get to work. I up the bottle and what's left of the bandages back in the cabinet, and pick up the rags to take them down to the laundry. She watches as I do so and speaks up, “Don’t worry about the mess in the entryway, I’m going to make Daci clean it.”

“But I-” I’m about to protest until I look up and see her expression. She raises an eyebrow at me, challenging me to say something. I go quiet, crumbling under the gaze.

“She was the cause, she will fix it.” She explains. “As for you, it's almost tea time, so go bring those rags to the laundry and meet me in my parlor in a few. I need to go get Daci started on her own tasks.”, she instructs.


	5. Chapter 5: “The Garden Dog”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took longer to come out, and also sorry for how long it ended up being. It was a simple enough chapter concept when I first started writing it, but it slowly took on a mind of it's own. We went places in this chapter that I hadn't planed on going to just yet.

What transpired after the incident was surprisingly quiet. After the shattering sounds and shouting and crying, the rest of the evening seemed almost too quiet in comparison. After changing uniforms and bringing the rags down to the laundry, I headed up to the mistress’s parlor passing by the entryway on my way upstairs. There Iulia crouched on all fours scrubbing my blood off the floor with a brush and bucket. The dustpan sat next to her full of broken and bloody glass and crystal. She hadn’t looked up from her task at first, only doing so when my footsteps creaked on the stairs. “How are your legs?”, she had asked.

“They sting, but not too horribly. They feel much better now that they are cleaned up.” I had answered honestly.

She nodded and shrugged, “I’m sorry, about it all. I hadn’t actually intended to hurt you, despite how it may seem.” She had sounded genuine when saying it so I smiled.

“It’s alright, you couldn’t have known I’d be such a klutz. In fact thinking back on it, it is kind of funny.”, I laughed “The way I jumped out of my skin at the sight of a spider, even though I know you and your sisters turn into bugs.”

Daci had seemed surprised at my response and had actually laughed along with me, “Yeah, and the look on your face was priceless! The way you scurried backwards to try to get away killed me!”

We had laughed about it together. It felt good to laugh with Daci, It felt like we were finally starting to understand each other. I know she’s desperate for her mother’s attention, being the youngest in a family like this can’t be easy. And I think she’s starting to understand that I'm not here to replace her. It was a small step, but a step nonetheless.

After that I had served the mistress her tea, and been instructed to go to bed early. “You’ll need your rest If we want those cuts to heal”, the mistress had said. The stress of the incident had drained my energy, so I didn’t hesitate to follow her instruction and head to bed. Laying my bandaged legs down on the bed made me wince at first, the pressure making the cuts sting a bit more, but I had adjusted quickly, sleep eventually taking me.

The next day I wake early to finish cleaning the chandelier despite the missing strand. Even with that small piece gone, the fixture still looked beautiful once clean. Just as I had predicted, It glistens and sparkles and gleams. I allow myself a few moments to weave through its shimmering streams and exist inside it’s dazzling lights before going to find the mistress to ask her to raise it back up. I ran my hand along the strands, letting them clink together like a wind-chime. The early day light shone through the fixture and bounced around, casting rainbows on me and the room around me. If I squint the lights dance in my vision like an artful display, and I pretend for a moment that I'm not the maid of a castle full of strange creatures but instead the princess of my own, the simmering lights becoming fairy magic in my imagination.

I was shaken from my daze by Daniela and Willa arriving through the courtyard door. They carry a large number of fabric shopping bags in their arms, all looking quite heavy. “You’re lucky Willa and mother both like you, shrimp.” Daniela comments breathlessly. “New garden tools as requested.” She drops the bags in her arms at my feet.

I’m about to comment on the fact that I'm not actually the one who requested them when Willa speaks up instead, “We still need to take those to the shed and throw out the old ones, Dani. Don’t think you can flake out on me now.”

Daniela grumbles under her breath as she picks the bags back up again, and mocks her sister when she’s not looking. “Also stop calling me shrimp.”, I comment “I told Madam that I don’t mind the nicknames she comes up with for me, but I never gave ‘shrimp’ my seal of approval.”

Daniela just laughs in my face, “Where’d you get that new back bone of your’s, shrimp? So brave all the sudden. Iulia spooks you with a little spider and gives you some cool scars on your legs and now you think you’re all tuff?” She leaves laughing before I can respond.

“Don’t take it personally, Daniela actually means well in her own strange way.” I hear the sound of Lady Dimitrescu’s voice behind me, and turn to face her. “You're lucky, believe it or not. She rarely comes up with nicknames for the servants, derogatory or otherwise. She usually just calls them ‘hey you’.”

I laugh at that “I suppose ‘shrimp’ is better than that at least.” I jest.

“True, but not as nice as ‘little Iepuraș’ though, no?”, she smirks.

I try not to blush, “No, not as good.”

“Of course not.”, she agrees “Now, if you're done with the chandelier, I’ll take care of raising it back up. In the meantime, why don’t you follow the girls out to the shed and familiarize yourself with the new tools, maybe even get started on the garden if you’re feeling up to it.”, she instructs.

“Yes Ma’am”, I nod, excited to finally be able to work outside for a change. Before coming to the castle I lived every day of my life outside, but since arriving I had barely seen the sun at all. Not to sound ungrateful for the shelter being provided for me, but suddenly going from one extreme to the other is quite a shock. I skery off in the direction that Daniela and Willa had left moments ago. Heading out the west side door, I shiver against the cold air and realize I should have probably put on a coat. It’s warmer than it had been when I first arrived at the castle, the snow is melted, and I can hear birds singing, but the wind still chills me to the bone. I realize that I won't be doing any planting today, the ground is likely still too tuff. But I can start to clear away the weeds and dead plants.

Jumping back inside, I rush back to the front entry and over to the coat closet where I had hung the coat Daniela had picked up for me. It’s a long, well fitted, wool number in an off-white creamy yellow. It’s warm and looks nice over my uniform. I rush back to the west door as I’m putting it on. The mistress was just finishing hanging the chandelier when I came flying in and out. I can hear her chuckling at my display as I leave.

Rushing into the shed, I’m met with the girls gathering the rusted tools and carrying them out. “Oh good you’re finally here.”, Daniela tips her head in the direction of the new tools, still in bags, sitting on the shed floor. “You can take care of putting those away, yeah?”, she asks, “Now that we’re moving the old ones out?”

I nod, “Yeah, that’s no trouble at all.”

“Good”, Daniela nods back as she exits the shed with her arms full of rusted tools.

“Thanks, Glinda” Willa smiles at me when she follows her sister out the door.

With the shed now empty and quiet, I set to work on putting the new tools in their respective places. I’m actually happy to do this bit on my own, organizing the shed to my own specifications allows me to know exactly where everything is. Hanging up each tool on hooks in the walls, or placing them on shelves, Eventually everything is put away. Unsure of what to do with the cloth shopping bags, I gather them all up and hang them together on one hook.

When I do, however, I can feel that there is still something inside one of them. It’s much lighter than any of the tools, and when I reach in to grab it, It’s soft. Pulling it out I see that it’s a pair of gardening gloves, covered in a pink lavender and mint green floral pattern. I smile, realizing that Willa must have picked them out remembering my favorite colors.

Putting the gloves on and taking the shears down off the wall, I head outside to get to work. Setting the shears down, I start by pulling weeds. The garden is overgrown with them, so I knew this task would take some time. Crouching down, I pull the offending plants up from their roots. Slowly they start to be cleared away to reveal the garden bed. One clump of weeds in particular is rather stubborn and holds onto the ground below it with more force than the others. Putting my back into it, I stand up to give myself more leverage and pull with more strength. The weeds are plucked from the ground, sending me tumbling backwards with the force of my pull. I land on my backside in the dirt, and hear a raspy laugh coming from the outskirts of the property.

Surprised, I pop back up and take a look around. There, on the edge of the property, walking towards the castle, is a large scruffy looking man. He looked to be almost as tall as Lady Dimitrescu from what I could tell, and woar a similarly shaped hat. But that is where their similarities end. This man was laid back looking, ruff around the edges, dirty even. He looked like he might have been living on the streets like me, sporting scruffy hair, a long tattered trench coat, and a pair of round sunglasses that completely block out his eyes. He carried a large buck slung over his back and a rifle at his side.

I backed up a few steps reflexively, not expecting the sudden presence of a stranger. “Well look at little Peter Rabbit rummaging around in the garden.” The man laughs. What is it with everyone comparing me to rabbits? “I didn’t know Cina was hiring. But I shouldn’t be surprised she caved for such an adorable little thing.”, he continues as he approaches.

He tosses down a bundle of rabbits tied together by the necks at my feet. “Do me a favor and help me carry these into the east kitchen.”, he commands.

I take another step back and scrunch my nose at the prospect of carrying game. “I’m sorry, but I’m supposed to be tending the garden right now.”, I try my best to find an out.

He laughs again, booming and guttural, “Ever the obedient one, huh? I can see why my dear sister keeps you around. Don’t worry, I’m family, I doubt Cina would mind if you helped me for a second.” He explains.

“Cina?”, I ask. First her daughters and now this brother, how is the mistress the only member of her family who seems to bathe.

“Alcina Dimitrescu, Lady of the house, your boss” He said it as if her first name is common knowledge that should already know. “Now, come on little rabbit, pick up your brothers and sisters there and follow me.”

I can see there will be no way out of this so I pick up the rabbits by the rope and hold it far from my body as I walk. We circled round the castle and entered through the east entry that was mostly used as a servant’s entry and took the stairs down to the kitchen. The man whose name I still did not know, slung the large deer off his shoulder and onto the counter. It landed with a wet crunch sound, and I wince knowing that this counter is where I prepare my own meals.

“Heisenberg Dimitrescu, how many times do I have to tell you not to waltz in here, bossing my help around, and making messes like you own the pace. You gave up your claim on the castle to me a long time ago.” Lady Dimitrescu stood just inside the kitchen doorway with her hands on her hips, looking amused but cross. “And to have my little Iepuraș carry in her own kind? The gall!”, she mocks offense and takes the rabbit carcasses from my hands. Just how far will this rabbit joke go I begin to wonder. “Why are you even here, with-”, she scrunches her nose at the smell starting to permeate the kitchen, “these?”

“So sorry you’re majesty”, her brother mocks sarcastically and curtseys in an over dramatic flail of large limbs, “I forgot you reign supreme over the whole house and family. I didn’t know I’d need a fancy invitation to visit my own sister. You should be thanking me. I only swung by to lend you a hand.”, he draws on and on. He likes to talk, I realize.

“Lend me a hand with what?” the mistress asks in disbelief.

“With your little supply shortage problem”, he gestures wildly to the game on the counter and in her hand. A meat shortage? That can’t be right, as far as I know I’m the only one in the castle who eats meat and last I checked we were fully stocked.

Lady Dimitrescu scoffs, “You know we don’t drink that filth!” Her expression sours again, “The girls and I only feed on those we can trust are clean. Besides you know as well as I do, I can’t make wine with this. It’s far too gamey.”

I’m left to wonder as they both continue their discussion as if I'm not there. “Look, I know you’re a queen and the girls are all little princesses-” His sarcasm persists, “but beggars really can’t be choosers. I know how hard it’s been for you to keep the cellar stocked laity, you and the girls need to feed, regardless of quality. Would you really have them go hungry?”

The mistress says nothing to that, only puts the bundle of rabbits down on the counter next to the buck and sighs. She leans against the countertop and hangs her head in shame. “It’s better than nothing, isn’t it Cina?”, he asks.

“I suppose” I can hardly hear her mumble under her breath. My heart can’t help but ache hearing her sound so dejected. I want nothing more than to help in some way, although I’m not sure how. It just pains me to see Madam so sad. They are starving? Suddenly so many things make sense. Why Daniela is sometimes too tired to dress herself in the morning, why Willa seems to keep to one wing of the castle, only venturing out when necessary, and why the castle was in such disrepair when I arrived.

“Is there anything I can do?”, I find myself asking without thinking. My voice sounds desperate and weak in my own ears. I brace myself for the two of them to laugh at me, but instead they merely look down at me wide eyed as if they had forgotten I was even there.

Heisenberg does eventually chuckle a bit, but not a harsh laugh, it sounds more like it comes from a place of disbelief, “What a sweetheart.”, he comments. “I’m sure she could-”, he starts to address his sister again but is interrupted instead.

“NO!”, she frantically jumps in before clearing her throat and turning to me, “No, that won’t be necessary, sel mic.”, she says much calmer, “That is very sweet, but I would not ask something like that of you, it’s not in your job description.”

Heisenberg looks at her quizzically “You do like this one don’t you?”, he asks rhetorically, chuckling under his breath again.

“Enough, Hais.” she waves him off. “Now if you would be a dear and go get back to work on the garden.”, she instructs me, nudging me toward the door.

“But, if there is a way that I can help, I’d like to.”, I protest “Pleas, my lady. Whatever it is, I’d be happy too.”

She sighs, exasperated “You’re adorable, truly, but you really have no idea what you’re signing up for.”, she shakes her head.

“You’re vampires aren't you?”, I ask suddenly. “You and the girls?”, she looks stunned “I’m not completely idiotic. I’ve been putting the pieces together, and they led me to a hunch. That’s what you meant by ‘feed on’ isn’t it?”

“Yes”, she sighs again “so then you see why I could not possibly ask you to help. I wont have either myself or the girls feeding on you. To truly help with our shortage, you’d be sucked dry. The girls aren't very good at holding back when they are hungry.”, she admits.

“Then is there some other way I can help?”, I plead, “How do you usually go about finding sources of blood, and why is it not producing the same results anymore? Maybe I can help restore productivity?”, I offer.

“You’re serious about this aren't you?”, she asks in shoke. My only answer is a determined nod. “Alright.”, she sighs “Follow me.” She takes me by the hand and leads me through the castle. We approach a bookshelf in the library that she reveals to me is a secret door.

I gasp, eyes glowing with excitement “Secret door” I whisper reflexively. I hear the mistress chuckle at me and am suddenly embarrassed by my own childlike wonder. Glancing up at her from the corner of my eye, I see she does not look as though she’s making fun of me. She instead wears a look of fond amusement. Smiling to myself, I’m happy that I can bring her joy.

“You’re far too endearing to simply be fed upon and thrown out.”, she comments as she leads me down the dark flight of stairs that the door revealed. I squint my eyes to try and see in the dark, but to no avail, the further down we venture the darker the narrow stair shaft becomes. “Oh, right, sorry.”, I hear her apologies. Looking up to where I assumed her face would be, I am met with a pair of golden eyes looking back at me. They glow in the dark, illuminating the upper portion of her face a bit. “I forgot humans have limited vision, one hasn’t been down here in so long.”, she explains.

Halting my steps with a firm hand on my shoulder, she walks ahead of me, further down the stairs until she is almost low enough to be eye level with me. Turning around to face me, she takes both my hands in each of hers and guides me down the steps one by one so I don’t fall. I’m amazed she can walk down these stairs backwards with ease, she must walk them often to have memorized the amount of steps. Once she reaches the bottom we stop and she lifts me off the stairs and places me back down on the floor at her feet.

I land on a stone cobbled floor, my shoes splat against something wet on the stone surface. It’s too dark for me to see what it is, but I can venture a guess as I can tell even through my shoes that it’s thick. “Hm…”, I hear the mistress mumble in thought, “I’m going to light the room for you, but I should forewarn you, The only people tending to this room have been the girls for years so it’s…”, she pauses.

“A disgusting mess?”, I ask.

“Yes, precisely.”, she confirms.

“I'm ready”, I brace myself for the scene I am surely about to face. With a snap of her fingers, the mistress lights the old candle sconces on the walls of the room bathing it in a warm yellow light.

I cringe at my surroundings, jumping away from the red puddle I had been standing in. I try to tell myself it's just wine and avert my attention to the rest of the room which may be a mistake. The room we stood in looks more like a dungeon then a wine distillery, and I wonder if it was perhaps the dungeon when the castle was still in operation. It’s completely cobblestone, from floor to ceiling. ‘Wine’ puddles collect in cracks and divots in the stone floors, and cover the serfas of the wooden table that sits at the room’s center. Two of the walls are completely lined with racks fitted to house large wine barrels, similar to the ones I climbed outside. A third wall was lined with wine bottle racks, which were mostly empty. Along with the puddles on the table there were also various utensils and tools, all stained red from use. I could swear I sow a few chunks of flesh on the table as well, and averted my eyes quickly, to the doorway on the far end of the room. It seemed to open up to a long corridor with metal bars lining it. I realize that there really are dungeons down here, and notice smeared tracks of blood leading from the cells, down the hall, and to the table. Along the edge of the door frame I see scratches on the stone down low near the floor. It suddenly dawned on me that they were likely left there by the victims being dragged across the floor, desperately grabbing onto the frame in a last ditch effort to get away.

I stare down at the floor, suddenly feeling ill. I had put it together what Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters are, and realized what their diet must consist of, but being faced with the ugly truth of it brought a sense of sickness I hadn’t realized that I wasn’t quite ready for. I began to wonder how I had not ended up down here. Why was I offered a job and not tossed down here to be carved up and drained into wine? Lady Dimitrescu finds me endearing now, but she couldn’t have when we first met. Why was I special? Why was I chosen? What made my life more valuable than of the others who met their end here? If the family is experiencing a shortage, and needs blood that badly, why was I spared?

I feel sympathy for the victims, the terror they must have felt, the gruesome end they must have faced at the hands of the daughters. I want to be sickened by the family, but I’m not, in fact I feel sympathy for them as well. After all, they probably didn’t ask for a life like this. They have to eat to survive, just like any species in the animal kingdom, just like humans. It’s an odd duality and it makes my head spin. There is no true villain here, it’s not black and white, it’s not that simple.

My eyes go out of focus as I think, my surroundings melt away and I feel as though I’m outside my own body. This has happened before, not since I moved into the castle, but it used to happen often. I think I can hear Lady Dimitrescu talking to me, but it sounds far away and muffled, like I'm under water. I want to snap back to reality and respond to her, as she is starting to sound concerned, but I simply can’t. I feel lost, like my mind can’t even find my body anymore.

I think I feel her arms around me, picking me up off the floor, but the touch feels foreign and numb. I start to lose time, moments blur together into one. I think my body is shaking, although I don’t actually feel it happening. At one point I hear Willa’s voice and I realize that Mistress has carried me back upstairs. Willa sounds worried so I try to speak to reassure her, but nothing comes out. Instead Lady dimitrescu responds to her. I’m not quite sure what either of them are saying, but I know they both worry. I feel helpless, I don’t want to worry them, yet here I am. The thought forces my mind further into the void of thoughts, pulling me further from reality.

Time bleeds together, until I finally come to. My mind finally returns to my body, and I realize I'm laying down in bed. She must have carried me to bed. I wonder how long i’ve been out. Time doesn’t exist when your head is miles away from your body. Feeling a presence, I look to my right and see the mistress setting in the lounge chair in the corner of the room. She looks tense, and is chewing on her fingernails.

“Don’t do that, your nails are so pretty.”, I say the first thing that comes to mind.

Her eyes flick to look at me, surprised to hear my voice. “There you are!”, she stands and rushes to my bedside. “Where did you go?”, she asks, a bit more commanding than she probably intended.

I wince at her tone. “I’m sorry, I genuinely don’t know.”, I admit. “This happens to me sometimes. Or at least it did when I lived on the streets. It hadn’t happened since moving in here. For a while I honestly thought I was cured of it.”, I try to explain. “I don’t know what it is, or what it means.”

She shakes her head in shock. “Did this used to happen often?”, she sets down on the edge of the bed, making it dip in her direction, sending me shifting closer to her. “You really scared us.”

“Us?”, I ask.

She sighs and calls out the bedroom door, which is slightly ajar. “She’s back!”

Suddenly the room is filled with bugs as the girls flood inside. I even spot Heisenberg following behind on foot. He stops at the now open door and leans against the door frame. The girls all form near my bedside, and clammer over their mother’s lap to check on me. “You really worried us little one” Willa states and all at once the girls start talking over each other “You were as pale as mother! For a moment we thought she turned you!” Daniela exclaims “You wouldn’t even look at us. Like a zombie” Daci points out. “It was so scary.” Willa whispers.

“Alright you three”, their mother hoists them up and away, corralling them all in her arms as they all collectively complain, “That’s enough. She only just now returned to us, we don’t want to put any more stress on her.”

“I’m alright now, really” I smile. It hadn’t occurred to me that all the girls would be so invested in my well being. Even Daci seemed genuinely happy that I was alright. “I’m so sorry I scared all of you. That was something that happens to me under extreme stress, it would seem. But I promise it’s nothing to worry too much about. Physically I’m just fine, and it usually doesn’t last long. The best thing to do for me in that situation is to just make sure I’m in a safe place, and let it run its course.”, I explain.

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing, that should be me.” Lady Dimitrescu claims “I’m sorry I even brought you down there so soon. I knew you weren't ready, that’s why I hadn’t allowed you down there yet. You were just so set on helping, I-”, she shakes her head. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

I shake my head back at her “No, it's alright. I was the one begging to help. I was the one who didn’t really know my own limits, not you. I’m just so confused about my own morals. It’s not your fault I’m so wishy washy.”

“I’d hardly call an aversion to draining humans of their blood ‘wishy washy’.”, she scoffs, “It’s an understandable moral dilemma to have.”

“More than that. I have some questions about why I’m here.”, I suddenly decide I need answers. “Why was I offered a job? Why wasn’t I just used for wine and discarded upon meeting me? You say you find me endearing, but why? And you three.”, I address the girls “Why do you like me? Daniela, you had no qualms with killing me on sight when we first met. And Daci definitely didn’t seem to be fond of me at all until recently. I just don’t understand.”

They all look at me as I continue to question them. Their expressions shift back and forth between surprise and concern. “My dear, just to clarify, you are asking why we are fond of you?” Lady Dimitrescu asks. I nod, hoping to finally have it explained. “Where to begin?”, she wonders aloud, “You’re sweet, you make us laugh, your good company which is something we haven't had in quite some time, you aren't repulsed by what we are, you’re good at your job, you’re nice to look at- Should I go on?”

I’m honestly stunned. I never imagined it’d be as simple as that. They simply enjoy my company. I suppose it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise, but no one has ever enjoyed my company before. I try not to get emotional at the thought, “Oh”, I simply say. “Thank you. I’ve never felt so at home before.”, I admit.

All of the Dimitrescu gush, even Heisenberg still standing in the doorway. The girls all wiggle free of their mother’s arms and leap onto the bed to hug me and fawn over me. Daniela pinches my cheeks like a mother would her chubby child, Daci apologized for her prank gone wrong again and softly places a comforting hand on one of my bandaged legs, and Willa strokes my hair. I laugh nervously, not used to so much attention and physical affection at once.

Their mother, likely sensing my slight distress, shoos them away once again. She nudges them towards the door where Heisenberg wraps his big arms around their shoulders and guides them away. Alone with me once again, the mistress laughs, “How have you stolen all our hearts so completely in a matter of- what’s it been now, a little over a month?”

I blush at her words and shrug “I honestly have no idea.”

She laughs and shakes her head in fond disbelief. “Well, regardless of how, you’re certainly a part of our family now, sel mic. Just don’t let it go to your head, alright? I still need you to do your jobs around here.”, she chuckles. “Speaking of, you started work on the garden this morning but never got the chance to finish. Why don’t you go do that until tea time. Fresh air might be just what you need after that ordeal.”

I breathe a sigh of relief at the prospect of going back outside as opposed to back underground, “I would actually love that.”, I admit, “I still want to help, I just need a bit more time.”, I clarify.

“Of course, Dear. Don’t you worry about us, we can certainly care for ourselves until you’re ready. There is no rush.”, she soothes. “Now, run along to the garden, little Iepuraș.”, she nudges me out the door gently.

“Yes, my lady”


	6. Chapter 6: “Lesson One”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one was fun to write. Its the first time I'm implementing a story idea I got from the Tumblr user ladydimitrescusdarling I'm pretty sure most people in the Dimitrescu simp club already fallow them, but if not, go check out their blog right now! 10/10 I'm telling you.
> 
> Any ways, here's a bit of a warning for you so you know whats coming, this is also the first chapter that has anything to do with smut. Nothing too spicy just yet, but this is the start of why I decided to slap an M rating on this fic. Just so you can be prepared.

The coming weeks I would be busier than ever. From my usual cleaning tasks, to getting the garden prepped for the spring planting, to staying up late trying to come up with salutations to the family stock problem that wouldn’t contradict my morals. The work was tiring, but It’s beneficial as well. 

Now that I was no longer starving, my scrawny body was finally starting to take shape. It was strange at first, I was becoming soft in places I didn’t expect to. But I was growing accustomed to it now. All the manual labor I was doing kept me from becoming unhealthy in the other direction. Keeping busy like this was also doing wonders for my mental health as well. Out on the streets I would sometimes spend hours doing absolutely nothing but sit alone on road sides and beg for change. The loneliness and boredom driving me mad. I was initially uncomfortable letting others manage my time, but having a schedule and tasks to complete has actually been surprisingly helpful.

Not to mention the company was helpful as well. A new part of my nightly ritual was to sit with the mistress while she had her evening tea, or sometimes a glass of wine, and just merely spend some time with her. It was quickly becoming my favorite part of the day. We talked about varying topics, from simply sharing how our days were, to discussing the shortage problem and sharing ideas on how to fix it, to talking about our special interests. Sometimes we wouldn’t talk at all, and she would just sit and read while I would sketch in the leather bound notebook I had been gifted. Now that I had some relaxation time scheduled into my day, I had taken up art and found that I greatly enjoy it. Sometimes she would absentmindedly play with my heir while she read, or sometimes she would read to me. There were a few times that I caught myself dozing off. 

The sisters were also becoming nice company to have. They flutter about the castle, usually pulling pranks on each other, sometimes enlisting me to help with them. When they aren't out hunting, working in the distillery, or wreaking havoc, they are usually laying around bored but too tired to do much of anything else. So they ring for me to come and keep them company for a bit. I would try to keep myself busy by tidying up whatever room of the castle that they decided to crash in, but more often than not I just end up joking with them while Willa braids my hair. I imagine that’s what sleepovers must be like for young girls. Sometimes their mother would stumble across us during these moments of rest and either jokingly berate her daughters for distracting me from my work, or, if tired herself, join in. She would nudge Willa out of the way and undo her sloppy braid from my heir to braid it herself, much neater.

Over the course of these coming weeks I was becoming more comfortable with physical affection every day. Lady Dimitrescu and Willa’s soft maternal touches, and Daniela and Daci’s ‘tuff love’ nudges and hair ruffles were working to replace old memories of harm. Their constant words of affirmation working wonders on my self esteem as well. This life almost seemed too good to be true, like a dream that I would one day wake up from in a cold wet alley covered in my old rags. Sure it was hard work, but the work was somehow empowering, and the rewards I was able to reap thanks to the work made it all too worth it. Some nights I would have nightmares about my life in the village and wake in a cold sweat.

On one of these nights, I shot up from bed in a panic. My nightgown clung to my sweat soaked body and served little to no protection from the cold night air. Reminding myself where I am, I calm and am about to get back into the warm confines of bed when my ears prick up at a somewhat familiar sound. It’s classical music, and I cholk it up to the mistress playing another record until I realize that it’s not coming from a gramophone. Listening closer I hear that it’s not a full orchestra like the mistress's records, but instead just a solo piano. It also sounds more present in the castle than a pre-recording, It reverberates off the walls and lacks the sound pollution of the gramophone itself.

Standing there listening I shiver in the cold. Taking a blanket from my bed, I wrap myself up like a cocoon, and walk quietly out of my room. Out in the hall I can hear the music more clearly. It sounds as if it’s coming from the direction of the mistress’s parlor. Curiosity getting the better of me, I follow the sound. The music is beautiful and luring, it plays almost like a soundtrack to my explorations as I venture through the halls and up spiral stairs. 

The closer I get to the room, the louder it gets, until it becomes obvious that it is coming directly from the instrument itself. The door to the parlor is slightly ajar and warm firelight shines through the small opening. Peering through it, I spot the mistress sitting at a large grand piano that looks as though it was especially crafted for her. I wonder how I had not noticed such a large instrument in here before. Seeing a dusty old discolored white sheet crumpled in a pile on the floor near the piano, I realize it had been covered from view before.

Mistress looked more calm than I had ever seen her before. Her shoulders look relaxed, her arms moving with ease as her hands flow over the keys. I’m mesmerized for a moment, watching her perform for a nonexistent audience. The music lures me into the room, but I don’t want to interrupt, so I open the door just enough to fit through as quietly as I can. Tiptoeing across the fancy rug in the center of the room, I make my way over to the fainting chair situated close to the piano and take a seat, still wrapped up in my blanket. The back of the seat faces the piano, so I lean against it, crossing my arms over the top and resting my chin in the crock of them.

Listening to her finish out the current song, I close your eyes and feel the music streaming around the room. It’s smooth and melodic, yet powerful and full. She plays with the confidence and skill of a master who has been playing all their life. I’m not well educated in the art of music, so I can’t really comment on specific skills or notes, but what I do know is that I could listen to her play forever. The sounds take me to a whole new place. It amerces me in a world where I was born into a home like this, a home where I’m welcome and cared for, a home where I’m happy and bring others happiness as well.

When She finally plays out the last notes of the song, I can’t help but to show my amazement with a round of applause. She stiffens slightly in surprise, and looks in my direction in shock. I quiet down my clapping, realizing I must have unintentionally snuck up on her. I cover my mouth with my blanked to suppress a laugh, “Sorry”

She laughs herself, breathing a sigh of relief upon realizing it’s just me. “Look at you, all cozy”, she observes “What are you doing up and about, sel mic? Little ones like you should be fast asleep at this time of night.”

“I was until an unpleasant dream woke me up.”, I offhandedly explain, “I didn’t know you played.”, I change the subject before she can ask about the dream.

“I don't, not too often anymore anyway. I learned during my childhood. Heisenberg and I used to practice together. He had no talent for it, I suppose I did.”, she elaborated, “I tried to teach the girls, but they aren't too interested in learning.”

“That’s a shame. You’re very good.”

She laughs again, “Thank you, but do you know anything about musical composition?”.

I shake my head, “Not a thing.”, I answer honestly, “But does that really matter? Isn’t the make of a good musician their ability to move the common listener? To evoke emotions in the general public?”

She regards me with a contemplative expression. “Perhaps. When did you get so wise?” I only shrug in response. “And shouldn’t you be getting back to bed?”

“I don’t think I could fall back to sleep if I tried.” I admit “Besides, It will be morning in just a few hours, what would be the point?”

She sighs “Very well, but I better not find you falling to sleep on the job today.”, she lectures.

“Of course not.”, I agree.

“Alright then, come sit.”, she pats the piano stool next to her. Without hesitation, I rush over to the piano, blanket dragging on the floor behind me. The stool Is at a comfortable sitting height for her, so I have to climb up like a child. Shimming my way into a comfortable sitting position, my feet dangle in the air. “Any requests?”, she asks.

I don't really know many songs by name so I shrug, “The song you have the most fun playing.”

She thinks for a moment before cracking her knuckles and getting into position “It’s by a Russian composer named Sergei Prokofiev, from his second piano concerto.”, she explains as if that would mean anything to me. With that her next performance begins. The beginning of the song is somewhat quiet and slow, the plunking of the keys falling in a pattern resembling the sound of a wind-chime being blown back and forth in ever-changing directions. It builds slowly, adding different keys and speeding up over the course of the song's opening. The build is ethereal and pretty with a slightly eerie undertone. I watch her hands as she plays and can barely keep up with their placement, her fingers making quick work of the multilayered song. It’s kind of hypnotizing and I can see why this is her favorite song to play.

I watch in amazement, my mind beginning to wander to places I hadn’t expected. I start to wonder what other dexterous things she could do with her talented hands. Thighs pressing together, I mentally slap myself for having such thoughts. Burrowing further into my blanket cocoon, I try to focus on the music instead. Unfortunately now that the thought has occurred to me, it won’t go away. It seems to have come out of nowhere and taken me completely by surprise. The only sexual contact I’ve known in my life has been unwanted and unwarranted, so having a desire of my own is new. I knew that I found the mistress attractive, but this is the first time i’ve fantasized about anything more than what we already have in our current platonic relationship. Images of her picking me up to set me in her lap and slipping a hand under my blanket to rub me through my thin nightgown enter my head.

Crossing my legs, I try my best not to squirm. Syncing my discomfort, she ends the song short, “Is something the matter little Iepuraș?”

“Hm? Oh, no, nothing’s the matter.” I look up at her and hope that my face isn’t as beet red as it feels.

She squints her eyes at me in skepticism. “Are you sure?”, she asks, “You’re Offaly red.” She tucks some hair behind my ear and presses her hand against my forehead to check my temperature. I shiver violently under the sudden touch.

“No really, I’m just fine. The um, music just moved me more than I expected it too.” I laugh nervously and hope she takes that as an answer.

She only laughs “You are a terrible liar, you know that?” She lifts me from the stool and into her lap, just as I had envisioned and I squeak in surprise. Suddenly I’m filled with the embarrassing fear that one of her vampire abilities is mind reading. But she merely sits me down in her lap and plays with my hair. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s on your mind or do I need to torture it out of you?”

I swallow “Torture?”, I ask quietly.

“Precisely.”, she confirms, looking serious, gold eyes glowing with mischief.

I shrink in on myself, feeling intimidated. “Like what?”, I ask in disbelief that she would do anything to harm me.

“Well, like this.”, She pins me in place with one arm over my lap, and uses her free hand to push my blanket out of the way and tickle my side mercilessly. I squeal, taken completely by surprise. I wiggle and squirm to no avail, trapped under her arm. Covering my mouth with my hands, I try not to laugh out too loudly. She doesn’t let up as I kick and spasm and bury my face in the blanket to hide my embarrassment. “So are you gonna talk?”, she asks, not ending her tirade.

“I- I just ha- had an embarrassing thought. T-that’s all.” I explain through fits of laughter.

“An embarrassing thought?”, she questions, finally stopping the ‘torture’ “While just sitting here with me? Whatever about?”, she sounds genuinely curious so I mentally sigh in relief at the confirmation that she can’t read my mind.

“It was nothing.”, I try to deflect. “Just an odd response to watching you play, is all.”, I don’t necessarily lie. “Just some wishful thinking.”

“Wishful-?”, she looks confused. “Did you want to learn to play?”

That hadn’t been what I was thinking at the time, but at the mention of it, I do find that the idea is appealing. Syncing that it is also an easy way out of this conversation I nod “Yes, very much.”

She smiles, her face lighting up with a joy that I hadn’t seen on her yet. “Why didn’t you say so? That’s hardly something to be embarrassed about. I would love to teach you.”, she explains with excitement. I realize that she’s been waiting to have someone to teach, earlier she mentioned how she had tried to teach the other family members and none of them seemed to have an affinity for it.

Glancing through the crack in the curtains on the window, she sees that the sun had just begun to rise. “It’s almost time for the day to start so we don’t really have time to start lessons now, but perhaps we can start your first lesson after my evening tea tonight.”, she offers.

I smile at the prospect “I’d like that.”

Leaving the parlor, I go take my mourning bath to try and clear my head. Taking some alone time to breathe and shift my thoughts to something else, I’m able to calm down. I’m still not sure how my mind had wandered to such a thing in the first place. After my bath I feel refreshed and ready to keep myself busy throughout the day to hopefully help it fly by fast. My excitement for my first lesson keeping me moving.

Daniela found me later that day in the garden. She was alone, and started questioning me about my day. She must really be bored to be so interested. She mentioned that she had gone to my room at sunrise to ask me to help her get dressed again only to find it empty.

“Oh, right, sorry.”, I apologize. “I woke really early today. Your mother was playing piano and I went to go listen for a while before getting ready for the day.” I explain, suddenly remembering the experience and surly blushing at the memory.

Daniela laughs at me, “Are you blushing?”, she pokes fun, “Mother has a knack for seducing young maidens but this must be new record timing!”, she laughs harder, bending over with the force of it.

“It’s nothing like that.”, I stammer, “She did no such thing. I just like her, is all.”

Daniela only laughs harder “You mean she’s oblivious to it? Mutual pinning? Oh now that is priceless!” 

“I never said it was mutual”, I’m getting more flustered under the teasing.

She shakes her head as her laughter starts to die down, and she starts to walk away. “Oh trust me, Shrimp. It’s mutual.”, she chuckles over her shoulder.

I’m not sure how I should take that, so instead I try not to think about it. Hyper focusing on my work to keep my wandering mind on task.

When evening finally comes, I head back to the parlor, with tea tray in hand to serve the mistress her tea. Once there, I find she has not left the parlor all day. Song books, musical test books, sheet-music, and notes that look as though they were written by the mistress herself are scattered about the different surfaces of the room. She’s sat at one of the couches, shifting through notes on the coffee table, a fountain pin tucked behind her ear and her reading glasses on her face. The sight has me stopping to admire her beauty.

“Oh good, you're here.”, She smiles once she’s noticed my presents in the room. “Set that down and come sit with me.”, she pats the sofa next to her.

“Shouldn’t I serve you first?” I ask, tilting my head in confusion and lifting the tray in gesture.

She wakes me off “Oh, don’t worry about that. I have the first lesson plan ready to go, let’s get started.” I can tell she’s excited, her voice carries an air of anticipation that I haven't heard from her before. It’s kind of adorable actually. She must have been planning and working nonstop to prep for this lesson. It’s then that it downs on me that she must be just as excited to have something productive to do as I was when I first took this job.

Following her instructions, I set the tray down and take a seat next to her. Eager to learn, my eyes roam over the piles of books and papers in front of me. I thought we might have started the lesson sitting at the piano, thinking more about it though, It does make more sense to start with the basics before actually playing anything.

“So to begin you need to learn the building blocks of sheet music, the notes.”, she picks up a sheet of paper with blank music bars on it and sets it in front of me and hands me her fountain pen. “The notes we’ll be learning today make up the C Major scale, which is the scale that is the easiest for beginners to learn. Those notes can be raised or lowered in pitch to reach the full range. But today we’ll focus on C Major to start with. I’ll be reading you the notes and showing you how to write them on the bars and you’ll demonstrate.”, she explains.

I nod along, taking the pen and uncapping it, ready to listen. She points out each note in the scale to me one bye one on a full sheet of music, and I copy their shape and placement on my own blank sheet. She explains to me that writing out the notes myself will help me memorize their placements and will teach me how to read them when I see them in songs. I laughed inwardly to myself at the thought that I am going to learn to read music, before I even learn to read at all. I make a mental note to ask the mistress if we can add reading and writing lessons to our roster as well.

After writing the notes a few times, she asked me to identify them on a sheet of music myself. She points to a note and asks me to name it. After a while I was able to identify them on command. So we finally moved to the piano. I take a seat on the center of the stool and we both realize that I wouldn't be able to reach the keys on my own. We both laugh out loud before she picks me up to sit down instead and sit me on her lap. With the added height from her lap i’m able to comfortably see and reach the keys, the added comfort of her soft thighs was an added bonus as well. I try not to think too much about it though, choosing instead to focus on the lesson.

She reaches forward with the fountain pen in hand and marks down each note’s letter on the corresponding keys in swirling cursive writing. “Don’t worry about the piano, this will come off with a bit of alcohol.”, she comforts, seemingly reading my mind before I question it out loud. After the ink dries, she takes my hand in hers and positions it so that I can almost reach from the C on the far left to the G. They are bigger than the average piano keys so my small hands aren't able to spread my fingers quite wide enough. “Hm, this could prove a bit tricky but nothing too impossible. So here, if you want to play that C, lean your hand closer to the left like this-”, she tilts my hand to the left and pushes my pinky against the key to make me play it, “And for G, just pull to the right.”, She puppeteers me to play that as well.

“What about B and the other C?” I ask looking straight up at her from my position in her lap, accidentally resting my head on her soft breasts, in the process. If she knottiest, she didn’t acknowledge it.

Instead she smiles “That’s the trickier part, dear. To play B, you’ll cross your middle finger over your thumb like this-”, she explains as she positions my hand in the way she describes to play B. It’s difficult with the large keys, but not uncomfortable or impossible. “- and now with your hand in this position, your thumb can simply play this C key like so.”, she moves my thumb over to the C key and has me play that as well. “Now why don’t you try playing those notes on your own?”, she lets go of my hand. “Start with the C on the left, and work through the scale to the other side one note at a time.”

I shift my hand to the left, and press the C key with my pinky and the D key with my ring finger. Re-centering my hand, I play E with my middle finger and F with my pointer. Then shifting to the right I play G with my thumb, then attempt the crossover on my own which felt awkward and unnatural. Playing B after I had finally managed it, I then shifted my thumb over to finish off with the last C.

“Good, not bad for your first try, considering your hand size.”, she encouraged. “Why don’t you keep trying out that G to B to C shift on your own to try get used to the movements. It can be tricky for beginners to get the hang of even when the piano is sized for them. So repatriation really is your best friend here, muscle memory and all that.” She explains.

I follow the instructions, and repeatedly run through the three keys, over and over. My hand fumbles when I try to speed up and I hit a wrong key. She lightly smacks the back of my hand, not hard enough to cause pain, not even hard enough to startle me, but more playful. “You're trying too hard to master it too quickly. As I said, It’s normal for beginners to struggle with this, so don’t feel like you have to get it down right away. Go at your own pace, an ability to go faster will come with time.” I nod, determined to do better. I slow down and repeat the movements some more.

After about fifteen minutes of repeating the notes, the movement feels more fluid. It’s still cumbersome to do on the big keys, and I still have to go slow, but it no longer feels so unnatural. I'm able to shift from key to key without having to pause my movements to stop and think about where my fingers should be. “Good, good.”, she praises. “Now try the full scale again to see if it flows better.”

I play the scale again and it is easier this time, my hand shifting into each position with less hesitation. From left, to center, to right, to the crossover, I play it with much more ease than before. It’s still slow and stilted, still needs so much more work and practice, but it’s a start. “Good girl”, there are those magic words again that send my heart reeling. She rewards me with something unexpected, a light kiss to the crown of my head. Butterflies rage in my stomach and I feel a desperate need to do well, to be rewarded in this fashion more often.

Our lesson progresses much like that, she instructs me to practice the scale more, again and again to get the motions down. She tells me to try it backwards now, which I pick up with some fumbling at the start. I repeat that as well to get those motions drilled into my head. And then she finally has me play the scale forwards and backwards in a fluid motion. With a bit of practice I'm able to complete that without too much fumbling as well.

“With that you now know the C Major scale. With more practice it will become second nature to you, and eventually you’ll be able to play other scales and flow between them with ease. But I suppose we shouldn’t get too ahead of ourselves. Tomorrow I’ll introduce you to some simple songs that you can play with just this single scale alone and we’ll see what you can do with that.”, she explains. “For now though, it’s getting late. Time for little ones to be in bed, don’t you think?”

I suppress a yawn, feeling the effects of my early rise this morning. “I suppose you’re right.”, I admit sheepishly “Thank you for this, It’s so nice to learn something new. I really appreciate you taking time out of your night for me.”

She looks almost surprised at my sensuality, “Trust me, dear, this is as much for me as it is for you. Getting to share a skill with someone I enjoy spending time with is soothing.”, she admits, lifting me from her lap to gently sit me back on my feet.

“Well, still, It is an unexpected luxury to spend time I would usually spend working, being taught something instead.”, I persist. “Either way, goodnight my lady.”, bid her goodnight.

As I’m about to walk away she kisses my head again “Sweet dreams, sel mic.” I don’t think I’ll be able to think of anything else all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun fact, I actually know nothing about music. Like literally nothing. The amount of googling I had to do, just to write about being taught the bare basics like a kinder-gardener is unreal XD  
> So writing about future lessons is going to be interesting. For the most part future lesson scenes are going to focus more on the social interaction between the characters as apposed to the actual music lessons, but that being said, if anyone has some musical know how and has any pointers for me that would be cool.


	7. Chapter 7: "Keeping You Safe"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling the surgery fluff vibes but time while writing this one. Hope everybody's got a sweet tooth.
> 
> Another Romanian word was introduced here too, the Romanian pronunciation of 'Mommy' = 'Mami'

The next few days where spent much the same way. I would work throughout the day, sometimes taking a break to relax with the girls or the mistress or both, and finish the day in the mistress’s parlor learning piano, reading, or writing depending on the day of the week. The learning process is slow going for all three. I have managed to play a few simple songs, nothing like the mistress plays, more like nursery rhymes and lullabies than anything else.

Having a repetitive routine has been really nice so far. It's been really calming to the mind, but I have to admit that it’s becoming a little stale. I love spending time with the family, especially my lessons with the lady of the house, but I am starting to get restless being so stagnant. I long for spring time when I’ll be able to start planting in the garden, it will give me something new to do, something I can exercise my creativity with. 

I think the mistress has started to pick up on the subtle signs that I’m getting stir crazy, because she’s been asking me to complete more specific tasks to help break my routine. One day she had me reset all the clocks in the castle to the correct time, as most of them had fallen out of rhythm over the years. It sounds mundane, but actually exploiting the castle top to bottom looking in every room for any clocks I could find was kind of fun. It was like a scavenger hunt, but one where you don’t even know how many things are on your list. Today’s task, however, Has me a bit more stationary. 

Today I am getting started on reorganizing and dusting the large castle library, a task I will surely have to work on for multiple days as it is tedious and time consuming. The family has allowed the library to fall into disorganization, so recategorizing books by genre and author is hard enough on its own, but I'm having to sort through them to find any damaged books to dispose of them as well. After years of festering, some books have water damage, or have been torn up by mice looking to use the pages as nesting material. I occasionally let my eyes wander to the grandfather clock against the wall, eager to go start my piano lesson as it would most likely prove more exciting than book cataloging. My waiting is interrupted by a loud crash coming from the hallway not too far away. The truth is loud sounds like that aren't really anything new, and I usually chalk it up to the girls sparing in the halls. But the girls were all out hunting today. Something in my gut told me that I should go check it out. Perhaps I was just looking for an excuse to leave the library, as I hadn’t all day. But either way, I stand from my seat and exit the library.

Immediately upon pushing the double doors open I spot the cause of the sound. Just down the hall, someone has thrown a rather large stone through the window, shattering it on impact. Within seconds I see a rope with a grapple being slung through the now broken window. My fight instincts kick in and I pick up the nearest potential weapon I can find. I spot a small marble sculpture on a nearby table. Picking it up as quietly as I can, I hold it at the ready.

Eventually a rather fit looking man in a dusty trench coat climbs in through the window and luckily doesn’t see me. For just a moment I thought of Heisenberg, but no, this man is fit but he’s much smaller than the mistress’s brother. I raise the sculpture up, ready to swing if need be, when another man follows in after the first. The first man helps him up through the window, and they call down to a third in a hushed tone. “Seems to be clear” one of them whispers down. I realize I’m totally outnumbered here, and even worse I spot holstered guns on these men. One even has a large shotgun sling across his back.

I start to panic and suddenly wish I could call out to the mistress without being detected. Looking around, I realize I'm right next to my bathroom and hatch a plane. The girls are out hunting, but I know the mistress is down stairs in the setting room reading. I’m able to silently slip into the bathroom and prep a hiding stop. The cupboard against the back wall where my bath products are stored is large enough for my small body to fit into. Quietly shifting a few bottles out of the way feather back into the cupboard, I clear myself a spot. Leaving the cupboard door open I silently rush over to the wall by the door to the room, and prepare to run. Reaching up, I grab the service bell rope and rapidly ring it several times. Immediately after, I bolt for the cupboard and slip in, shutting the door behind me, as I can clearly hear the men rushing down the hall after me.

With the door shut, I can’t see what happens next, but I can hear it. One of the men busts open the bathroom door and I can hear them rushing into the room and looking around. My heart beats fast as I sit in the darkness hoping that they aren't smart enough to look in the cupboard before Lady Dimitrescu arrives. They don’t speak to one another, so I assume they must be gesturing to each other silently instead. One of them steps close to the cupboard. I can hear heavy combat boots thumping against the floor just outside the thin wooden door.

I clutch the small sculpture that I still had with me tightly in my hand. Readying myself, I get into a stance that will allow me to lunge at the man as soon as he opens the door, hopefully taking him by surprise. The door creaks open and I spring forward as fast as I can. I succeed in shocking the man, who tumbles backward with the force of my body hitting his. Raising the sculpture over my head I bring it down as hard as I can on his own. I don’t think I’m strong enough to kill him with such a blow, unless I repeat it multiple times. That wasn’t my intention anyway, I merely wanted to knock him out.

Blood splatters across his head, the floor and the sculpture. I hear the unsavory crunch sound the accompanied blunt force strikes to the head. The guy clings to consciousness, but just barely. His buddies race forward to help him. One of them grabs me by the arms and lifts me off his friend with ease, the other checks on the guy who’s shifting in and out of consciousness by that point. I kick and thrash to try to get away as the guy holds me under the arms against his chest and facing away from him.

I hear what sounds like a struggling gurgle sound come from the man holding me. Looking up to his face I see a long blade has been shoved through his windpipe from behind, sticking out above my head. His body goes limp as he dies, and he drops me before dropping to the floor himself. Turning around I am relieved to see Lady Dimitrescu standing tall and threatening, her long blade like claws extended to full length. She wastes no time in stepping between me and the final remaining intruder. I step closer and clutch the heavy fabric of her skirt in both hands, as if it, in of itself, would offer me some kind of protection.

During the attack on his other friend the last man had stood up and gotten a handgun out from it’s holster. He shoots it at the mistress aiming for her head, but she smacks his hands out of the way while he pulls the trigger so it makes contact with the ceiling instead. With her hand already so close to him, she grabs him by the throat, her large hand engulfing his neck, and lifts him into the air like he waist nothing. He takes aim and tries to shoot her again, but misses due to his blurred vision from being choked. The built grazes her cheekbone instead, leaving a small abrasion, but not much else. She doesn’t even flinch as the built wizzes passed her head, but I do, clutching her skirt tighter at the fear of it coming so close to hitting her.

Glancing down at for just a second she decides that I don’t need to see anymore death today, so she flairs her skirt with her free hand so the fabric drapes over my head, blocking my view of what happens next. Judging by the bone cracking sound that followed, I would wager a guess that she snapped his neck. The next thing I hear is the wet crunch sound of his body hitting the floor.

What happens next Is a flash of movement that my eyes can’t keep up with. The vale of her skirt is pushed out of the way, and I’m hoisted off the ground and carried out of the room all in one fluid fast motion. It happens in a blur. One moment I’m standing on the marble floor of the bathroom, looking at the world through a soft silk and cotton blend and the next I’m being held on the mistress’s hip like a toddler. My head instinctively rests on her shoulder, and I can feel one of her hands rubbing comforting circles on my back. When did she retract her claws?

“Are you alright?”, she asks concerned, looking me over for injuries.

“I’m fine really. They didn’t have a chance to hurt me.”, I reassure. 

A proud smile graces her face as she ends her check up to look me in the eyes “No, no they didn’t, you clever girl.”

My heart swells to the point it almost makes me light headed. No one has ever called me clever before. I’ve always been uneducated, a ‘foolish girl’, a ‘stupid wench’, a ‘mindless beggar’. I’m speechless, unable to express how happy I am that she’s proud of me. Without knowing how else to convey the emotion, I simply nuzzle into the crook of her neck, burying my face in her hair. My senses are invaded by a combo of the sweet rose scent of her perfume and the unreal softness of her hair. It’s like expensive china silk, or what I imagine a cloud would feel like if they could be grabbed. My whole body relaxes at once, the tension and stress of the previous situation is practically completely gone. It almost scares me how easily she can tear down any and all natural defenses I have. I never knew my own mother, but I imagine this is what it must feel like to be held by one.

Wrapping my arms around her neck, I snuggle in closer. “Who were they?”, I ask.

“If I had to guess by the way they broke into the castle welding weapons and sporting that get up, I would say vampire hunters, or perhaps just monster hunters in general.”, she explains.

I’m about to inquire on the fact that such things actually exist, until I realize that it’s silly of me to think they wouldn’t, given the fact that I accepted the existence of vampires themselves easily enough. So instead I just nod.

She laughs, “Getting comfortable there, Iepuraș?”

It’s then that I realize that I have absentmindedly started playing with the ends of her hair and shifted slightly down to a more comfortable resting position with my head now resting on the soft upper slope of her breasts. I’m about to lift my head and apologies until she runs her fingers through my heir, holding me in place gently. “It’s alright. You’ve just been through an ordeal that was quite scary. Rest your head if it helps.”, she practically coos in my ear.

It does help, so I stay. Her skin is almost as soft as her hair, but I feel light abrasions against my cheek, and glance at her skin in curiosity. She has tinny scars across the tops of her breasts, or maybe stretch marks? Without thinking one of my hands moves down from her hair to lightly trace one of the marks with my finger. They are scars, I decide, as they are too rigid to simply be stretch marks. My heart brakes at the prospect of her being struck or cut. I want to know the story behind them, but I don’t want to overstep. I’m so saddened by the possibilities that swim through my head, that I turn slightly to kiss one of the raised scars without so much as a second thought.

I hear her let out a relaxed sigh, “Such a sweetheart.”, she comments, “But keep that up and I won’t know how to act.”

I want to ask what she means by that, but instead I’m suddenly reminded that one of the men is still technically alive. A small amount of fear creeps back into me at the thought. “Mami, what about-”

“What did you just call me?”, she interrupts me, not with the sharpness that one would expect that question to carry, but softer, more out of simple surprise than anything else. At first I'm not sure what she’s talking about, until I suddenly realize my slip. My face heats up with embarrassment and my head lifts from it’s position on her chest.

“I’m so sorry, I meant to say Mistress.”, I stammer out quickly.

“No.”, she commands gently, “No, I think I like that better. Say it again for me.”, she requests.

I bit the inside of my cheek in a strange mix of nervousness and delight, “Mami”, I comply.

She closes her eyes and listens to it intently before nodding in confirmation, “Yes, I do believe I much prefer the sound of that. Do call me that from now on if you please.”

Again I am overwhelmed with emotion, thoroughly distracting me from the possibility of danger still lurking in the bathroom. “Yes, ma’am.”, I chew on my lip and go back to resting against her and playing with her hair.

“And don’t worry you’re little head about that imbecile. You succeeded in knocking him unconscious, and the girls should be home any minute now to deposit him and his fellow cretins into the cellar.”, she soothes, petting my hair. I relax at that and try not to think about what the sisters will likely do to him when they find out.

She starts to carry me down the hall “Why don’t you and I wait for them to get here in the setting room, hm?”, she offers, “We can sit by the fire and I can give you a reading lesson.”

I’m thankful for the distraction. Sitting in her lap, I sound out words while she combs her fingers through my hair, her nails gently scratching against my scalp. She even put on a record for us to listen to while I read aloud. Occasionally I’ll get the pronunciation of a complicated word correct without help, and she’ll reword me with a kiss to my head or a whisper of ‘good girl’ in my ear, which never fails to make me shiver.

For the first time, she finally comments on my rather noticeable reactions “Do like being a good girl for Mami?” I can hear the mirth in her voice when she asks it.

Shifting a little in her lap, I’m rendered speechless yet again. Heat coils in my lower stomach, the words paired with her tone of voice making my thighs press together. Of course I do, why wouldn’t I want to be good? Why wouldn’t I want this beautiful woman to be proud of me? The question seems so silly and yet I don’t know what to say. “Why wouldn’t I want to make you smile?” I wonder aloud.

She stops at this, surprised by my response. She sighs happily “You really are too sweet.” The hand that had been petting my hair moves down to wrap around my waist instead. She pulls me closer to her in her lap, and leans down a bit to bury her face in my hair at the back of my neck and breaths in affectionately. “What are you doing to me, sel mic?”, she asks breathlessly. I don’t know what to say to that ether, so just lean back let her cuddle me.

That’s how the sisters find us when they return. Their mother holding my tiny body tightly in her lap, head nuzzled into my neck and a book in my hands. Daniela instantly bursts into laughter, Daci’s nose scrunches in an ‘ew’ face, and Willa does what she can to suppress a smile. “I told you it was mutual, Shrimp!” Daniela shouts between laughter.

Mami sighs in exasperation, or maybe disappointment that we’ll have to get out of our current position. Raising her head she regards the girls with a serious tone “Enough Dani. Listen, did you find anything while you were out?”

“Yes actually!” Willa chimes in excitedly “Two. We came through the cellar entrance and put them away already.” She sounds proud of herself. Being the oldest and the impromptu leader of the three, she rises to the occasion when it comes to the hunt.

“Excellent, that makes five in total. We’ll be eating well this month girls.” She sounds excited as she lifts me from her lap and sets me on my feet. The girls look confused. “I’m going to take the girls upstairs and fill them in on the situation. Be a good girl, and wait for me here?", she addresses me with a light ruffling of my hair.

“Yes Mami”, I comply, forgetting for a moment that we aren’t alone. Daniela bursts into another fit of laughter, and Daci groans “Alight, that’s gross”, she mumbles. I blush furiously as their mother nudges them out of the room.

I wait there in the setting room as requested, practicing my reading while I wait. Occasionally I look up at the clock hanging over the fireplace, wondering how much longer Mami will be. They are taking longer than I expected. The scuffle happened at around 3:00 in the afternoon and now the sun is starting to set. Looking up to the clock yet again I see it’s creeping close to 8:00. We had been sitting there waiting for the girls for about an hour or two at most, now it’s been five. I don’t want to think about what they could be doing, but my reading is starting to bore me. I try to keep myself distracted, I lay down on the fainting couch I had been sitting on and kick my feet up over the arm of the seat. Tapping the heels of my work-shoes together impatiently, I watch the fire as it dances. My eyes get heavy and I eventually drift off to sleep.

I’m woken up by the smell of roses, a hand in my hair, and a soft humming. Blinking my eyes open I see the white silky fabric of Mami’s dress and realize she has positioned me to rest my head in her lap, facing her stomach. Still half asleep I snuggle closer and burrow into her soft tummy, closing my eyes again against the fabric. She’s plush and cool against my forehead, and I sigh happily.

She stops humming “Finally with me, Iepuraș?”, she teases.

“Mmn” I mumble against her stomach, still sleepy. 

“Should we be getting you to bed, sel mic?”, she inquires.

“Mnm” I shake my head no. Her lap is the best pillow I could ask for and I don’t really want to go lay in bed alone. After the day I’ve had, I’d rather stay close to her. It was scary not only in regards to my own safety, but a bullet came close to her head today! 

“No?”, she asks in a teasing tone “No, you’d rather sleep here?”, she chuckles.  
“Mhm” I nod.

“A riveting conversationalist tonight, aren't we?”, she laughs. “You could sleep here if you like, although I was going to offer you something cozier. But if you’re content here I suppose we can just stay here.”, she teases.

I know what she’s doing but I can’t help my curiosity “What’s cozier?” I ask rolling onto my back to face her.

She laughs again “I had a feeling that would get your attention. Why don’t you come lay down in bed with me?”, she offers nonchalantly. 

My face goes red at the prospect. Did she really just ask that? Surly I’m dreaming. If you'd have told me this morning that she’d be asking me this I would have never believed it. I’m not sure I even believe it now. “Really?” I ask quietly, eyes wide.

She chuckles “Really.”, she confirms. “I can tell that you would rather not be alone right now, but you need your sleep. In all honesty so could I after the day we’ve had. Although I understand if the idea makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that, it’s just-” I pause, not sure what to say. “I would actually really like that.”, I admit. The idea of laying in bed with her has my heart absolutely racing, but I know she’s right about us needing sleep.

She smiles “I thought you would.”, she stands, picking me up in the process. “Let's go then, off to bed.”, she holds me close and I feel both heart racing nerves and peace all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it seems like a dick move to end the chapter here, but I wanted to dedicate a whole chater to the bed sharing so that will be next time 😂


	8. Chapter 8: "Hush"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sharing a bed, and the morning after :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took me so long to finish everyone, I was having a bit of a tuff time with writer's bloke for a few days. But I'm back with a slightly spicier one this time. Hope you like it

After a quick stop at my room to change into my nightgown, Mami carries me up stairs to her parlor that leads into her master bedroom. I Had never actually been past this point before, only going as far as the parlor. I had asked once if she had wanted me to clean her room and she had declined. I can see why, It looks as though she’s been keeping it clean and to her specifications on her own. 

The room is immaculate and beautiful. It’s high ceiling is adorned with a large crest medallion in the center, from which hung a smaller chandelier. Unlike the furniture in the rest of the castle, other than the piano in the parlor, all of the furniture in this room is large. It looks as though it was built for her. From the beautiful carved vanity with a matching chair, to the absolutely massive bed. It looked large enough for me to sleep sideways with my arms stretched above my head and still not reach the edges. It makes sense she would need a bed of this caliber to sleep comfortably, but still, this looks big even for her.

She laughs, noticing my bulged eyes and slightly agape mouth, “I told you this would be cozier, did I not?”

I laugh back, in disbelief, “I guess you weren't kidding.” I’m suddenly filled with childlike wonder again, similar to the revelation of the secret door in the library. I have an abrupt need to test my sideways theory, so I wiggle slightly in her arms “Down please.” I mumble quietly.

She chuckles before complying and placing me down on my feet. Rushing over to the bed I realize that it’s as tall as the piano stool, maybe a little taller even. I clamor up clumsily and flop down at the foot of the bed, face down, sideways, with my arms over my head. I was right, the very tips of the fingers and toes just barely touch the sides of the bed. That’s only the first thing I noticed though. Next, it hits me just how comfortable the bed is. It’s plush, but firm enough to support you. The sheets and duvet are both crazy soft, they feel like Mami’s hair and I realize they must be china silk or Egyptian cotton or something fancy like that. And of course there is the smell. The whole bed smells like her, like fancy french rose perfume, a faint bit of cigarette smoke, the coconut oil she must use to keep her hair and skin so nice, and just a little of the coppery smell of blood. I take a deep breath, letting the smell fill my lungs before breathing out with a sigh and melting into the bed.

“I had planned on sharing that with you, you know.” She says sarcastically, pointing to the bed with a raised eyebrow.

I laugh, rolling over and propping myself up on my elbows “Sorry, It’s just really nice. I feel spoiled.”, I admit.

“Good, that was my intention.”, she smiles, “No rush to get up, I still need to change anyway.” She waves me off, lifting her feet to remove her shoes one at a time. She removes them while still standing with the grace and ease of one of those danes in a black and white film. Next she removes her leather gloves and sets them on the vanity.

I’m suddenly curious about how her claws work so I ask, “Are your claws natural or are they a mechanism in the gloves?” She smiles and shows me rather than telling me, extending her blad claws naturally from her fingernails.

“The gloves have thin slits in the tips of the fingers that allow them to slip through.”, she explains, retracting them yet again. Next she removes her large hat, hanging it on the back of the chair, and runs her hands through her hair loosening the vintage waves. I’m so mesmerized by her actions that at first I don’t even question it when she reaches behind her neck to start unbuttoning the top buttons of her dress. Once it dawns on me though, I blush and roll back over to hide my face in the duvet once more.

“Oh I don’t mind if you look, Dear. I’ve got nothing to hide from you, although I understand if you’re uncomfortable with the prospect.”, she comforts, “It’s up to you.”

“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable, It’s just-”, I pause, trying to put my thoughts into words “it’s just that I can barely handle your beauty as it is, I’d probably spontaneously combust if I watched you change.”, I admit, kicking my feet for enthuses.

She’s quiet for a moment, perhaps not expecting such a response. “You’re so sweet, I think I might get cavities.”, she laughs. “I think you’ll survive just fine, Dear. But again it’s up to you.” I can hear fabric rustling as she talks and the sound of her heavy gown pooling on the floor.

Feeling a little bit more confident, thanks to her playful encouragement, I venture a curious peek. The sight I’m met with confirms the assumption I had made upon first meeting her, her corset is very nice. It’s well fitted and the boning curves smoothly. It lifts and presses her breast perfectly and is made of white silk and lace. Underneath it, she wears a sheer white slip that reaches her lower thigh. And under that a set of black lace stockings, drawers, and garter-belt.

Her dress was well fitted on the top, and therefore left little to the imagination when it came to her bust or muscular arms. However the skirt of it was draped and flowy, hiding most of her lower half. With it now gone, I could fully appreciate her full soft thighs and muscular calves. She could probably crush someone with those thighs easily, I shiver at the thought. While I was letting my mind wander to unexpectedly sensual places again, she was busying herself with her corset lacing. By the time I snapped out of my thoughts she had loosened the laces enough to undo the latches in the front and remove it.

With the corset now gone all that covered her breast was the sheer slip. I had to bite my lip to keep myself from making an inappropriate sound at the sight. Removing the corset allowed her breasts to drop slightly to a more natural position, although they were still surprisingly perky for someone of her physical age. Her nipples are a dark dusty pink, and stand at attention against the chill of the room. I can see that the tops of her breasts are not the only areas that are covered in scars. They stretch over the tops of her shoulders, across her soft stomach, and peper her outer thighs as well. I imagine that I would find them scattered across her back as well. My heart aches for her again, and my curiosity about them is once again peaked. But again I push that curiosity down, as I still feel it’s a little too soon to be asking such things. Instead I just lay my head back down while waiting for her to finish getting dressed for bed.

I hear the clicks of the garter snaps being unclipped, and I assume she’s removing her stockings and garter next. It’s quiet for a moment before I hear the sound of a door being opened and I look up again curiously. On the other end of the room, I see her open a set of large double doors to a walk in closet. Leaning inside, she pulls out a soft looking cottony night slip. Raising it over her head, she slips it on over the sheer slip and turns back around to face me. “Alright sel mic, it’s time to scotch over and make room.”, she chuckles.

Realizing she’s finished, I set up and shift to sit to one side of the bed with my back to the big fancy headboard. She turns down the covers on the free side of the bed, and slips in to sit beside me. “Here, lift up, I’ll tuck you in.”, she gestures to the blankets on my side. 

Scooting up the bed and bending my knees to lift my legs out of the way allows her to pull the covers out from under me and lift them up so I can slide in. I do, sliding down to a comfortable lying position and am wowed by the comfort of this bed yet again. My head sinks into the pillow and tension in my limbs melts away. Mami lays the blankets back down over me and they engulf me in warmth and security. They are heavy but not suffocating, soft, and encompassing. Leaning over me she indeed tucks me in. 

I had thought she was merely teasing, but here she is following through. I’m beginning to wonder if my calling her Mami has convinced her that more motherly interactions would be appealing to me. She’s not wrong, they do make me feel safe, warm, loved even. It’s a nice feeling, one that I would enjoy experiencing more of. But I do fear that she might start to see me as being immature or in need of care constantly. I like this odd dynamic we seem to be building, but I hope she doesn’t only see me as a young fragile child. I’m in my mid 20s after all.

My fears are calmed a little by the way she looks in my eyes as she finishes tucking me in. In our current position, with her leaned over me, we are face to face which is rare considering our heights. She’s only a few centimeters away, I can practically feel her breath on my face. “It’s been a long time since anyone has wiggled their way into my heart the way you have, sel mic.”, she admits suddenly. 

My eyes go wide with surprise. She doesn’t elaborate on exactly what she means by that, but judging by her choice of words, it’s safe to assume she’s not referring to it in a familial since. ‘-since anyone has wiggled their way into my heart the way you have’, she had said. She has the girls, I’m sure that they exist in her heart in a familial since everyday. Perhaps I’m simply reading too much into her words, but what about what Daniela had said. Why is she so adamant that my feelings for her mother are reciprocated? I try not to dwell on it, out of fear of making the situation awkward. Instead I merely watch her as she moves down the bed to lay down next to me.

With a snap of her fingers the candles in the room are extinguished, blanketing the room in a cool darkness. The only light became the icey light of the moon seeping in through the windows. I roll onto my side to try and get comfortable, only when I do the shift in my weight sends me sinking closer to Mami until I’m pressed against her. The dip in the bed created by the pressure of her large body makes It difficult to keep a distance. She laughs under her breath. “I suppose I should have seen this coming, huh?”, she helps position me against her more comfortably, “There, how's that, Lepuraș?”

“Better”, I confirm quietly. I’m cradled against her side, her arm tucked under me and wrapped around my back so her hand rests on my hip and my head rests on her clavicle. I feel so comfortable, so protected, so at peace. She sheltered me with her home, and now with her body as well. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so safe. Her vampire skin is cool against my own, but somehow I'm still warm. Maybe it’s the heavy blankets, or maybe it’s how flustered I am. Either way, I settle in quickly and I know it won't take long at all for me to fall back to sleep. “Goodnight Mami”

“Sweet dreams, my little Iepuraș.”, she replies, planting a kiss to my forehead. I blush, having been kissed on the face for the first time rather than the top of my head. As I lay there drifting to sleep I wonder how I had gotten here. I was the castle maid. Merely an employee just a few weeks ago, and within a matter of those weeks I’ve grown close enough with the mistress to start calling her Mami and to sleep in her bed. It all happened so fast, but not shockingly so. I mean it was shocking that it had happened at all, but the transition itself didn’t seem pushed or shocking. It almost felt natural even, like this was the clear natural progression of our dynamic. Despite the speed at which I had ended up here, I didn’t feel out of place in her arms.

It surprises me just how effortless it feels, to call her Mami, to be held, to sit in her lap, to lay with her here. Has this always been what my life was missing? A maternal figure, or romantic companionship? Had I somehow found them both in one foul swoop? I suppose It’s too soon to be saying that. Romantic companionship? I still don’t even know if my feelings really are reciprocated as Daniela says. As my mind begins to swim with these thoughts, my hope of falling asleep easily starts to fade until she speaks again and brakes the silence.

“You’re thinking too much, sel mic.”, she mumbles sleepily “I can sense your restless mind from here. Whatever is troubling you can surely wait until tomorrow can it not?”, she nags.

I smile at her groggy tone, as it’s unexpectedly cute. “I suppose you’re right”, I respond. She is right, it hardly matters where exactly our feelings stand right now in this moment. What matters is we are happy to be near each other and can offer each other comfort. The rest can all be decided later.

“Of course I am.”, she mumbles back “Now, little ones need their rest after stressful days.”, she lectures, suppressing a yawn.

I giggle, “Big ones too it would seem.”

“Hush”

\------------------------------------<3--------------------------------------

The next morning I wake to sunlight pouring through the windows. My head rests softly against Mami’s breast again, the way it had been when she held me the day before. Fluttering my eyes open I realize a few things. One, she is still fast asleep, two sometime during the night I had shifted to be sleeping on top of her with one of my legs slung over hips, and three the room was rather bright. We had forgotten to close the curtains last night so now the morning sun shines in uninterrupted. For a moment I think of that silly superstition about vampires burning up in sunlight, and wonder just how much vampire folklore is true and how much is made up.

Tilting my head slightly up to look at Mami’s face I see that she seems unbothered by the sunlight in the room, and remember that I've seen her go outside during the day. Mentally laughing at my forgetfulness, I watch her sleep for a moment. It’s surprising how peaceful she looks. With her face relaxed, and her breathing even, and the morning light shining on her she almost looks younger. More alive, I realize. She looks as though she has some color back in her skin and hair, the warm light of the room reflecting off of her in creams and chestnut colors. I hadn’t intended to lay there and stair, but I couldn't look away. She’s simply mesmerizing, even when she’s not doing anything at all.

I watch her for a few moments more until the faint sound of fabric hitting the floor brakes me from my trance. Looking over in the direction of the sound, I see that her gloves that she had laid on the vanity are now on the floor. They must have slipped off and fallen down just now. Looking back to her face, I can see that she’s still asleep. So careful not to wake her, I quietly and slowly ship out of bed and make my way to the vanity.

I pick up the gloves with the intent of putting them back only to get distracted by the feel of them in my hands. The leather material fascinates me for some odd reason. Suddenly curious what my tiny hand would look like in one of them, I try one on. It’s far too big for me as expected, my fingers barely fill the glove fingers halfway, and the wrist of the glove reaches past my own by at least five centimeters. I have so much wiggle room that I’m sure if I tilted my hand down it would simply slip off with little to no resistance. I quietly giggle to myself at how silly it looks before taking it off and putting it back.

Before I’m able to head back to bed, I get distracted again. On the vanity sets all kinds of pretty things. A crystal perfume bottle with a gold cap and atomizer, a porcelain compact with powder puff, a silver tin with what looks like cream mascara in it and a spooly brush, a jewelry stand where her pearl necklace and purple rose brooch where displayed along with some other beautiful jewelry pieces, A wooden box with pretty designs carved into it which held a set of silver hair clips that are most likely used for styling her waves, several tubs of lipstick, and a crystal ashtray with her long cigarette holder laying across it, all adorn the surface.

My fidgety need to touch everything overtakes me, and I lightly run my hand along the pearl necklace where it hangs. Letting the pearls fall from my hand back into their hanging position like running water, I reach for the perfume bottle and extremely carefully pick it up. Holding it with both hands so as not to drop it, I gently turn it in my hands and watch the light reflect and sparkle off the crystalline surface. Biting my lip, I can’t help it, I spray just one little puff of the perfume on my neck as quietly as I can and close my eyes at the pleasant smell. Setting the bottle back down, I then pick up one of the lipsticks and turn it around in my hands. The tub is shiny and gold and feels smooth against my hands. Popping the cap off and turning the tub to push the product up, I see it is a dark cherry red. It looks only slightly used and looks as though it would have a smooth buttery texture to it if applied. 

I’m about to put the lipstick away when a voice takes me by surprise, “I thought the American turn of phrase was ‘curiosity killed the cat’ not the bunny.” I squeak in shock and jump out of my skin fumbling the lipstick in the air, barley catching it before it hits the floor. Whipping my head up and over to the bed, I see Mami awake now and laying on her side facing me with her head propped up on her hand. She laughs at my clumsiness.

“Sorry, Mami. I was just putting this back.” I smile sheepishly and sit the lipstick down where I found it. Getting up and out of bed, she walks over to the vanity and looks in it’s mirror.

“Oh rats. I forgot to wash my makeup off before bed.” She mumbles, whipping at a smeared bit of lipstick on her cheek. “Hm. Well it looks like I could really use a bath this morning. You’re welcome to go take one of your own if you like, or you could wait here for me. Although you might get bored waiting, I tend to take rather long baths. Or I suppose, you could always come with me, if you’d be comfortable with that.”, she speculates.

My face goes red at the thought “Would you be comfortable with that?” I ask in disbelief.

She chuckles, “I already told you, I’ve got nothing to hide from you. But again, It’s all up to you.”, she shrugs heading to a door on the opposite wall that I assume leads to her ensuite bathroom. I twiddle my fingers nervously, considering whether I should follow or not for a moment. It seems almost too invasive, but she’s so open and casual about it. I don’t really want to cut our time together short, so I rush to catch up with her.

The bathroom is as immaculate as the bedroom. It too looks custom made for her, with tall marble counters, A beautiful porcelain basin sink in the shape of a seashell with a gold faucet, a white latrine with gold trim that’s properly sized for her, and the biggest fanciest clawfoot bathtub I’ve ever seen. It looks somewhat similar to the one in my bathroom, only giant and with more detailed carvings on the sides. It’s hardware is also gold to match the rest of the room, unlike the silver of my bathroom.

I’m so distracted taking the room in, that I don’t even notice when Mami finishes filling the tub and starts pulling her slips over her head. By the time I finally snap back into focus, she’s standing in the tub and sinking down into it slowly. I try not to stare, but that's a losing battle. Seeing the muscles move in her upper back is enough to make me weak. I was right though, her scars do cover that as well. It’s then that I finally realize what the scars are. The way they streak across her back is unmistakable. They are strike marks from a whip or flog being used over and over. My stomach drops at the realization, and I fall into a stunned silence.

“Rather quiet over there, sel mic. Cat got your tongue?”, she teases, probably assuming I’m just taken by her beauty. When she’s finally comfortable in the tub and looks at me over her shoulder though, her teasing tone drops away. “Lepuraș? Are you alright?”

I shake the unpleasant thoughts from my head and smile “I’m just fine. My mind was wondering, that’s all. But i’m back now.”

She looks at me skeptically, likely not believing me for a second, but ultimately decides not to push the subject. Instead she gestures to a tall wooden barstool setting near the tub, “You can sit down if you like.”

Hopping up on the stool I realize I’m at the perfect height and position to help Mami wash her heir if she wanted me to. I suppose that was the stool's purpose, when the castle was more thoroughly staffed she might have had handmaidens help her bathe. I wonder for a moment why that was part of my job now, but realize that between cleaning, gardening, lessons, and taking care of myself, I already have a fairly busy schedule. She probably didn’t want to overwhelm me with too many responsibilities.

“What’s on your agenda for today sel mic?”, she inquiries as she begins washing her body, starting with her face. She’s likely trying to keep conversation casual so as to keep the current situation casual. I can tell she's trying to keep me comfortable and calm. My silence earlier must have given her the impression that I was becoming uncomfortable.

“Well I need to get back to working on the library. I didn't get very far before I was interrupted yesterday. Although I’m not the most excited about it, It’s quite boring.”, I admit with a shrug.

“Hm.”, she hums in understanding, splashing her face with water to rinse it off, “It sounds like you just need something to keep you feeling productive, like music. There is another gramophone, like the one in my parlor, in the library. Why don’t you bring some of my records down there to play while you work?”, she offers, scrubbing her shoulders and arms with a luffa.

My face lights up “That would be perfect. Thank you, Mami.” She smiles back, lifting a leg from the water to scrub it as well. I can't help but watch, and secretly wish this was a part of my job. Retreating the first leg back into the water, she raises the other to repeat the process. My eyes wander up from her legs. Most of her body is covered by the now sudsy water, but eventually my eyes unintentionally land on her breasts. They rest right at water level, leaving the tops of them uncovered. The pink of her aureoles just barely peek over the surface of the water, soap suds clinging to her skin. I swallow thickly and shiver, practically falling out of the stool.

Hearing my scuffle, she looks up from her task and smirks “My, my. Staring where we?”, she teases, reaching over with a damp hand to tilt my chin up. “If I’d had known you only came along to ogle me, I wouldn’t have tried to keep up the silly small talk.”

My face is likely as red as the lipstick she just washed off her own face, “It’s not that. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so disrespectful. I was enjoying our conversation, I just get distracted easily. And I mean can you really blame me? Your beauty is kind of unreal. But I shouldn't be staring, thats rude-”

She interrupted my rambling with a fit of laughter. It’s the most genuine laughter I think I’ve ever heard from her before. It’s thick and rich, yet somehow still feminine and melodic. “I’m only teasing you little Iepuraș. There is no need for all this stumbling, I find it flattering.”, she explains between laughter. “Trust me if I didn’t find it charming, you would know.”, she teases again, although I can sense a hint of truth in that statement so I count my lucky stars that she finds me charming.

I calm down a bit and breathe a sigh of relief, “Oh, that's good.”, my body relaxes, and she retracts her hand back into the bath with her. “Um. Would you like any help washing your hair?”, I offer bashfully. 

She smiles and passes me the glass bottle of shampoo. It seems as though she had been hoping I would offer. Taking the bottle from her, I hold it while she dips her head into the water to wet her hair for me. Opening the bottle and pouring some shampoo out onto my hand, I then pass the bottle back to her so that she can set it back down on the floor. Excitedly, I rub my hands together to get some suds going, before getting to work. Running my soapy fingers through her hair, I massage the shampoo onto her scalp. Working it through the base of her hair, my fingers move in circular motions from the base of her skull up to her front hairline.

I see her visibly relax, sinking further into the tub and letting her shoulders drop. And if I had any doubts about whether or not I was doing a good job, they were squashed by the low blissful moan she reases. It’s a sound that goes straight to my core and gives me shivers that start at my toes and shoot up my body through my spine. Crossing my legs at the ankles to keep myself from wiggling too much, I continue to work the shampoo in. I prolong the process to give her more time to enjoy it, and my efforts are rewarded with more heavenly sounds.

“If you keep that up much longer, I’ll be forced to make it your only job so you never have to stop.” She finally comments.

I laugh “You know, that doesn’t sound too bad.” I joke.

“Oh? I bet not.”, she teases, “Getting to just set here and play with my hair all day. No more menial labor.”, she laughs.

“Sounds good to me”, I play along, splashing water onto her hair to start rinsing it. Running my fingers through her hair to help wash away the suds, I hear her sigh constantly. Glancing down to her face, I see that she has her eyes closed and a relaxed expression. Looking past her beautiful face, I follow the elegant curve of her neck and look back up to her hair before I get too distracted. 

“As amazing as that sounds, we unfortunately do have other things we need to do.”, She mumbles, not sounding the least bit motivated to get out the tub and go do anything else.

I laugh at her sleepy tone as I rinse the last bit of shampoo out of her hair. “Well in that case, could you please pass me your moisturizer so that can get started on that?”

“Mhm”, she reaches down and picks up the jar and hands it to me. Like with the shampoo before, I open it and scoop some into my hand, before passing it back to her to close and set back down.

I lather her hair slowly, taking my time, somewhat dreading the idea of her bath coming to an end and having to go back to work in the library. She gets comfortable again, and allows me to take my time, as she seems to be enjoying it too. While we let the moisturizer sit in her hair, I continue running my fingers through it and scratching at her scalp.

She lets out what I can only describe as a cross between a content sigh and a pleased moan, and adds a “Good girl” for good measure. I almost choke on my own breath and have to calm my rapidly beating heart. She chuckles at my reaction, and opens her eyes to look up at me, eyes glow with mischief. “You are Mami’s sweet good girl, aren't you?” she asks teasingly, clearly trying to push my reaction further.

I shiver and have to catch my breath “Yes, Mami.” I whisper sheepishly. She laughs at me again, before sitting up in the tub and turning around to face me. Lifting my chin with her finger again, she tilts my head up to look at her.

“You’re so cute, you know that?”, she asks rhetorically. “Honestly, what I’m I going to do with you?”, she tuts, tilting my face this way and that as if looking at me from all angels would somehow provide the answer.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from whining at her tone. “Living here with you and your family has honestly made me the happiest I’ve ever been, so really I’d do anything for you.”, I admit pathetically.

She looks surprised for a moment before a devilish smile graces her face. “Anything? Really?”, she asks in a breathy tone, “Are you certain about that?” I nod, or as best as I can while she’s holding my face. “I don’t doubt it. With the way I can make you squirm so easily.”, she teases. Leaning forward, she comes closer and tilts my head up and out of the way to ghost her lips over my neck.

I can’t hold back a squeak of surprise as soon as I feel her breath on my skin. She doesn’t even really touch me, but the proximity makes me shutter. I close my eyes and hope and pray that she’ll kiss me. However the thought also terrifies me for some resend. She doesn't though, and merely comes within a breaths distance away before moving back and sinking back into the tub.

When I finally open my eyes I see she’s back in her original position, her back to me, reclined back against the tub. I can’t help but feel a little disappointed, and a little bit like I was being strung along.

“The water is getting a bit cold, dear. If you don’t mind rinsing my hair so I can get out?”, she asks politely.

My disappointment increases, and I mumble out a melancholy sounding “Oh, of course.”

“Don’t paut, my sel mic”, she scolds, “there's no need for that, I know what you need.”, she adds, her voice dropping an octave.

I shutter again, anticipating what she might mean. I waist no more time, setting to work on gently rinsing out her hair. “What is it, Mami?” I ask impatiently, trying to keep myself from bouncing up and down on the stool.

“Hush”


	9. Chapter 9: "Good Girls Don't Pout"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get just a bit spicy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hay there all,  
> So sorry, this is about to be a super long note, but please read it.
> 
> So there have been some changes to the fic that I should address before you read chapter 9. To start with, chapter 9 has bumped the fic’s rating from a M to an E. Just so I don’t get your hopes up for anything too kinky, this chapter just has some vanilla smut in it, nothing too crazy yet. But things will be getting spicier as the fic progresses, so I thought changing the rating was the right move. 
> 
> Next is the matter of the un-named sisters. Up until now I’ve been calling the other two Dimitrescu sisters “Alina” and “Sophie”. These are not original names that I came up with nor are they the official names from Capcom either. I merely started using them because I saw a lot of other fans using them, both here and on Tumblr, so I wrongfully assumed that they were the accepted ‘fanon’ names for the sisters. In other words I assumed the fandom had collectively deemed them the accepted names until we know the official ones. So for that reason I used them, so that my fic could fit with what I thought was ‘fanon’. Unfortunately I was very mistaken.
> 
> It turns out that these names were not decided upon by fans for the purposes of ‘fanon’ but rather they actually originated in someone's fic. The first usage of these names to refer to the sisters was actually in the fic titaled “No One Fucks With My Baby (Accept me)” by the user: regretfully_yours
> 
> regretfully_yours had no idea that their ideas were being shared about and used by so many people in the fandom. They had no intention of creating ‘fanon’ and did not approve of anyone taking ideas from their fic. I stupidly went along with the crowd without so much as asking questions or looking into it myself. I didn’t even stop to consider the names possible origins. But I wanted to right the wrong, so I reached out to regretfully on Tumblr to ask them what they would have liked for me to do to fix it. Unfortunately I didn’t get a response from them, however I didn’t want to leave this unattended to. So I took it upon myself to change the names in my fic, to names that I picked out myself. However I wanted to be upfront about the name change with you guys, I didn’t want to just drop it on you unexplained, or to make it seem like I was sweeping this under the rug. So I thought explaining and announcing it this way was the best way to go about it.
> 
> The new names are as follows:
> 
> Formally ‘Alina’ - is now ‘Willa’ (It means ‘one who is firm and resolute’)  
> Formally ‘Sophie’ - is now ‘Daciana’ aka ‘Daci’ (it means ‘wolf’)
> 
> Also, just one more thing, there is another Romanian word in this one  
> ‘Flori’ = ‘Flower’
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

After getting out of the bath, Mami had told me to go take a bath of my own and meet her at the front entrance of the castle. I asked her about my original plans to work in the library and she insisted I meet her instead. “Yesterday you were faced with a life or death situation, you’re taking the day off today.”, she had said. So I didn’t question it further.

She also told me to take my time with my bath, “I need some time to get a few things ready, so really feel free to relax a while.”, she instructed. So that's what I did, I ran the hottest bath possible and took my time. Laying back in the tub, I listened to the light breeze outside and hummed to myself. My mind wandered to what Mami might have planned for me. “I know what you need”, she had said. What does that mean? What does she need to get ready for? I could make speculations but really I had no real clue.

After about an hour and fifteen minutes of relaxing in the bath, I decided that should be enough time. The water was now cold, and I didn’t want to get pruny. So I got out and wrapped myself up in a towel. I hadn’t washed my hair in this bath so I didn’t need to worry about drying it. Instead I had thrown it up in a big curly messy bun. Still wrapped in my towel, I exited my bathroom and walked across the hall to my bedroom where I planned on getting dressed.

Inside I found an apparel box on the bed, tied with a soft lavender ribbon. Curiously I walked up to it and found a small note attached.-

“I had Willa rush to town to pick up something she thinks you’ll like. Wear this today, no need for your uniform. I didn’t have time to see it before she had to rush it to your room, so it will be a surprise for me too. ~A”

-It read in a pretty looping cursive handwriting. I was so excited, I untied the ribbon and flung the box open without much hesitation. Inside a dress was neatly folded and wrapped in tissue paper the same color as the ribbon. Unfolding the tissue, I gasp at what I find underneath. Folded in a lovely presentation, lays a pale mint green sundress.

Pulling it out of the box carefully I see that it’s fairly simple in design but lovely nonetheless. It’s off the shoulder, the sleeves both being a ruffle of tulle that curves down the bodice in the front on either side of a corset style lacing that encloses the front of the dress. The skirt of it is a drapy circle skirt, made of layers of more tulle. It’s long enough to reach my mid calf and near the bottom of the skirt, it is adorned with a row of realistic looking strawberries printed on the fabric in soft pinks and reds. They fall in a pattern of whole strawberries and sliced ones.

Willa did an excellent job, it’s vary me. Putting the dress on, I lace it up the front and tighten it. Tightening the laces form fits the bodice to me and gives me a lovely shape. Glancing back to the box I see there is more inside, a big matching sun hat adorned with a mint ribbon and fake strawberries, a warm looking fuzzy cream shawl with embroidered strawberries on it, and a pair of shoes. The shoes are simple slip ons in the same mint color, with ballet laces to tie around the legs. Putting the shoes on and lacing them, I excitedly tiptoe my way into a clumsy pirouette. Or at least I think that’s what it’s called, I know nothing about dance. I wish I did. Being a ballerina seems so dreamy. Finally I take my hair down so I can put on the hat, and throw the shawl around my shoulders.

With the outfit completed I simply have to look at it in its entirety. So I go to the only full length mirror in the castle that I know about, besides the one in Mami’s bedroom, in the large ballroom. The far wall of the ballroom is completely mirrored, I assume to make the room appear bigger. I imagine that if a ball really was held here, the sea of people being reflected back on itself would make the room look endless. But now with just me in it, the mirror only serves to make the vase room look lonely.

But i'm not here to have an existential crisis about how empty the ballroom feels, I’m here to admire my new outfit. I love it more than I could say. The mint complements my red hair beautifly and the pops of red and pink from the strawberries ties it together so my hair doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb. The shape the dress gives me is perfect. The bodice is sculpted and fitted, and the skirt puffs out making me almost look like the ballerina I was daydreaming about being moments ago. Willa really outdid herself here. I take a moment to admire my reflection, twirling this way and that, before I finally head down to the front inference as instructed.

Once I arrive, I see Mami waiting for me there at the door. She’s dressed in her usual dress and I begin to wonder if all her dresses look the same. When she spots me coming down the steps, she smiles brightly. “Well, look at you.”, she breaths, “What a little vision you are. So pretty.”

I tilt my head down shyly, “Thank you, Mami. You’re always pretty.”, I turn the complement back around at her as I reach the foot of the steps.

“Pretty and a charmer. How could I not swoon.”, she teases, her eyes roaming me from head to toe. “Twirl for Mami.”

I blush at the command and follow it, twirling in my dress so the skirt ruffles up like a ballroom dancer. I’m so mesmerized by the way the material flows up that I spin for a little longer than intended and get just a bit dizzy. Not enough to throw me off balance, but enough to make me a little lightheaded.

She claps for me as I slow to a stop to face her once more. “Just lovely.”, she comments, “Now why don’t we go finally get the day started shall we?”, she offers, opening the castle door and gesturing for me to go out it. I look at her curiously, wondering what she had in store. Stepping out the door, I’m greeted with a slight chill in the air. It’s much warmer than it has been, however, so my fuzzy shawl offers the perfect amount of warmth. I hear crows crooning overhead and the sky barely has a cloud in it. It won’t be long until spring now.

Taking my hand, Mami leads me out to the edge of the property and through the metal gate. Rounding around the side of the property, she takes me to a winding dirt path through the wood on the east side. It’s lined with trees that canopy overhead, giving it a magical feel. “When the castle was still staffed, the girls and I used to sit out in the garden when we needed to get outside for a while. Once the garden started to let itself go and we didn’t have the motivation to keep it nice ourselves we had to find another area to relax in. We found one near the east side of the castle, this path was formed by our frequent walks to and from over the years.”, she explains as we walk.

Eventually the path of trees gives way to a small meadow, only a few meters across, but completely covered in wildflowers except for a small spot in the center that has been packed down from use. On the spot lays a picnic blanket with a picnic basket and a bottle of Mami’s wine with a wine glass. I’m surprised by the set up, this is why she needed time to get ready? How romantic. It’s not what I had expected, but it’s definitely not a disappointment. A new outfit and a picnic in a meadow, I feel like the protagonist of one of those romantic period piece movies that I use to sneak in to see back in the village.

“It’s not much.”, she points out. “I wanted to take you out to the village to show off how pretty you are and take you out to an actual meal, but I attract a lot of unwanted attention in the village these days.”, she explains in a disappointed tone.

I shake my head, “No, this is perfect. I’d much rather be here with you in this pretty scenery than back in the dusty village.”, I admit. To this she smiles, and gestures for me to take a seat on the blanket, which I do. Setting down herself, she first uncorks the wine bottle and pours herself a glass, then opens the basket. Inside is a rather aesthetic looking assortment of fresh fruits, cheeses, and crackers. I perk up at the sight, suddenly realizing how hungry I am.

“I haven't prepared actual food in…”, she stops to think, “Well let's just say, a really long time. So this was the best I could come up with on the fly.”

“It looks good to me. You forget I’m not picky when it comes to food. Street rat, remember?” I laugh.

She doesn’t laugh with me though, so I quiet down to a stop. “Still, I was hoping to spoil you. And you’re not a street rat anymore, I would appreciate it if you refrained from referring to yourself as such.”, she scolds.

My shoulders drop when I realize that my statement must have been offensive. Of course I'm not a street rat anymore, saying as such would be diminishing everything she’s done for me. “I’m sorry Mami. You’re right.” I apologize sincerely, scooting closer to her.

“As I always am.”, she nods firmly, “Now-”, she starts as she takes off her gloves and picks up a strawberry from the basket dipping it in the small tin of cream cheese, “-little ones should eat.”, instructs, holding the fruit out for me to bite.

I blush, not expecting to be hand fed. Leaning forward, I bite into the berry and make a bit of a mess of cream cheese and strawberry juice in the process. Without thinking about it, I lick the mess from her fingers before leaning back to chew and swallow my bite. She has a sharp intake of breath, and I look up to her face confused. Seeing her dilated eyes, I realize what I just did and blush even redder then before. Dipping the now bitten berry back into the cream cheese, she purposely gets some on her fingers this time and offers it to me again.

I can tell she wants me to make a show of it, and I don't want to disappoint. So, mustering up some confidence, I lean forward again. Finishing off the berry with my second bite, I chew and swallow it before leaning back this time so that it doesn’t get in the way of what I do next. Taking her index finger in my mouth, I suck it clean. She sighs happily, so I don’t stop there, wanting to impress her. I take her in deeper, running my tongue along the length of her finger, before finally pulling back until I release it with a pop. I then lick the pad of her thumb clean as well.

She releases what can only be described as a grawl. Looking back up to her face, I see her cat-like eyes have dilated to the point that her golden irises have almost completely disappeared. Upon looking me in the eyes, something seems to snap inside her and she grabs the back of my neck and leans forward to crash our lips together.

I had fantasized about kissing her, but I hadn’t anticipated that it would be like this. There was no timid beginnings, no testing the waters, just an intimate melding of lips, tongue, and teeth. I’m hardly complaining though, It's better than I could have imagined. My brain practically melts, unable to form coherent thought anymore. Her tongue runs along my own, exploring the confines of my mouth. Getting lost in the feeling, again unable to think, I suck on her tongue greedily. She moans in my mouth in response, and I go even weaker at the sound and the vibration it sends through me.

Finally drawing back, she takes a deep breath and sighs again. “Absolutely delicious.”, she comments, eyes still closed savoring it. I do my best to catch my breath, but my heart is still racing. She opens her eyes to look down at me, and instinctively her eyes trail down to my neck. Before she can act on any impulses she must be feeling, she takes a rather large gulp of her wine. Was I making her hungry? Now isn’t that a thought.

Shifting even closer to her, I bat my eyelashes, and try my best to sound cute when I ask, “Can I sit in your lap, Mami?”, tilting my head to the side like a puppy.

She laughs. “Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing, little trouble maker.”, she squints at me skeptically, “You keep tempting me like that and I won't be able to stop.” She picks me up and sits me in her lap nonetheless.

“Won’t be able to stop?”, I ask curiously, tilting my head up to look at her, “What would you do to me?”

She lets out a frustrated sound “Well for starters, you taste far too sweet for your own good. I’d simply have to take just a sip, just to sooth my curiosity. And then of course, I’d have to distract myself, lest I drain you dry.” She begins stroking my hair as she talks, “And if you taste as good as I think you will, I’ll need something just as tempting to thoroughly distract myself.” Her other hand glides up my side and back down again to rest at my hip.

My head feels fuzzy. Is this really happening? And again so fast, yet somehow not too fast? It’s undeniable now, isn’t it? Surly there is no way I could ‘read too far’ into this, right? It just seems so unreal to me. This absolute goddess among mortals is here seducing me? I can’t help but have my doubts even as it’s happening right before my eyes. “Like what?” I ask in the hopes of sounding like I’m simply playing dumb to teas her, but really I need to know the answer to squash my doubts.

“Hm.”, she hums in mock thought, seeming to play along with the teasing, “Well, I could always just kiss you some more, that seemed to be quite the distraction earlier. Although I might need to kiss more of you to keep me occupied.”

I fidget in her lap, having gotten my answer. It can’t be denied now, I am wanted. “Oh.”, I start playing with the fabric of her dress to keep myself from fidgeting any more. “What if I said that I would like that.”

She chuckles lowly and leans down to breath on my neck, “Is that so?”, she asks, “And would you be absolutely sure about that?” She punctuates her question by lightly dragging her teeth against my neck, her fangs gently scraping against the skin there, almost tickling me.

I shiver in response, tilting my head to the side to give her more access. “I’m sure.”, I confirm breathlessly.

She needs no more encouragement than that. She sinks her fangs into my neck effortlessly. It’s painful at first, I wince from the pain of the initial puncture. But once her teeth are in it's kind of intoxicating. She drinks from me slowly, clearly holding back for my sake, which is sweet. She gently sucks on my flesh as she drinks, and moans at the taste. Feeling the blood moving through my veins up to her waiting mouth is surprisingly nice, and her tongue lapping at my skin to catch any drops of blood that might spill is an added pleasure. As my blood is taken, my neck gets cold. A rush of cool spreads through my skin fanning out from her mouth. It makes me shutter.

Once I start to get a little bit light headed, she stops. Unlatching her teeth from me, she kisses the area instead. Running her tongue over the punctures to catch any blood that threatens to escape, as well as to sooth the area. I whimper at the feeling, leaning back against her in her lap. I relax in her arms and let her do whatever she likes. She continues to lap at my neck until she’s sure that the wound is soothed. Then I feel her lips move up my neck, kissing her way up to my ear. She lightly sucks on the sensitive flesh just under it before lightly scraping her teeth along the shell of it. I shutter once more and moan quietly.

“More divine than I could have dreamed.”, she whispers, “You’re the first madden to satisfy me in a while without needing to be fermented into a wine. I know I was teasing before, but I could truly dink you dry if I’m not careful.”, she warns.

“Then what can I do to help distract you?”, I ask hopefully, turning around in her lap to face her and straddle her. Her size advantage makes this position a little clumsy, but it also allows me to be eye level with her breasts, so priorities.

She smiles at my offer, and holds me by the hips. “Lay down in the flowers for me and let me have my way with you.”, she says simply. I shiver with anticipation, following her instruction. Getting up from her lap I take a few steps back, off the blanket, and sit down amongst the flowers. Laying back, I nestle myself in the colorful foliage and shudder as the petals and leaves tickle my skin. Sill in my dress, much of me is covered, however my bare arms and legs are now peppered with goose bumps.

She approaches, and leans over me, holding herself up on her elbows on either side of my shoulders. “And you’re sure you want to? I know it’s still early, we don’t have to.”, she offers gently. I smile at her consideration and compassion.

I shake my head, “No, I want to. I’m almost embarrassed how much I want to.”, I clarify.

She chuckles, “Well, that’s certainly nothing to feel embarrassed about.”, she encourages before leaning down to kiss my lips again. I lean up into the kiss, feeling just as melty and fuzzy as I did during our first kiss. Shifting her weight over to one arm, she uses the other to pull at my dress laces. After undoing the bow, she tugs at the stings to loosen them. All the while, she's kissing me. Moving down from my lips, she kisses a trail down my neck to where my dress is now open.

I shiver under the attention as she sucks and licks at the exposed sides of my breast. I moan when her lips reach a particularly sensitive spot on the underside of one. My moan seems to sper her on, so she peals more of my dress out of the way to kiss more of me. Eventually she takes one of my nipples into her mouth and bites at it gently. I squirm under her and she laughs low in her throat sending vibrations through my flesh.

Reaching down with her free hand, she bunches my tulle skirt up past my hips. Moving further down my body, she licks a line from the top of my inner thigh, along my panty line, up to my hip bone, where she bites at me yet again. I squeak in surprise and my muscles flinch under the unexpected feeling, so she holds me down firmly by the waist while she continues her assault on my hips and thighs.

Lifting one of my legs up over her shoulder, she sucks at the sensitive flesh between my inner thigh and where I need her most at the moment. I moan loudly and buck up against her hold on my waist. “So impatient”, she mumbles against my skin.

“Please, Mami?” I beg, not sure exactly what I’m begging for, just for her to do something I suppose.

“Please what, Dear?”, she asks back “Speak up.”

“Please-” I stumble on my word, unsure of what to say. My brain can barely form sentences, let alone understand what it is I really want at the moment. “Please stop teasing me.” I settle on something vague, and hope she will fill in the blanks.

“And what is it you want Mami to do then?”, she inquires, not letting up, she wants to hear me say it.

I huff in frustration and wiggle against her hold “I want you to fuck me, please?” I plead. “In any way you like.” I add in explanation.

She sits up “In any way I like.”, she asks in disbelief. I nod, and she smirks. Extracting one claw, she carefully hooks it under my panties and cuts them off in one fluid motion. I moan, half in pleasant surprise, half in irritation at the now ruined garmit. “I’ll get you new ones.”, she says simply before retracting her claw and running her fingers up through my folds.

I gasp at the sudden contact, her skin cold against my own heated flesh. “So soft.”, she comments rhetorically as she rubs at my sex “And so wet for me already?”, she breaths, finding my clit and cycling it a few times. I moan again, long and drawn out this time. “Is that what want, sel mic? Hm? You want Mami’s fingers?”

“Please!”, I beg again, losing my patience by this point. With that conformation, she dips her fingers back down toward my entrance, and fills me with one. “Ah!” I cry out in surprise at how smoothly she slips in. I must be even wetter than I thought. Her finger fills me just enough to feel satisfying, with it being much longer and thicker than my own. She slowly begins working it in and out, gently working me up gradually.

I moan in surprise when she adds a second finger. Filling me up more, she pumps into me at a slightly faster pace. I gasp at the way she feels inside me, and wiggle in her hands again. She curls her fingers inside me, hitting just the right spot, and I throw my head back in pleasure and gasp for air. My heart rate pics up as her pace does. I nearly faint when a third finger is added. Now she’s stretching and filling me in a way that I didn’t think was possible with fingers alone. “Oh! Mami!”, my breathing picks up even faster. I know I won’t last very long, and so does she, it would seem. Because she moves deeper and rubs at my clit with her thumb.

I’m gasping for breath at this point, and my vision blurs. “That’s it, little floare. So sweet.”, she coos in my ear, “That’s my good girl, cum for Mami.” That’s all the encouragement I need to send me toppling over the edge. I cry out, little tears forming in the corners of my eyes, and buck up against her hold on my again. I see white, and my whole body convulses with the force of my orgasme. She doesn’t stop until she’s sure that I’ve ridden out the last wave. When she finally slows to a stop, I’m taking big gulps of air to try to get my breathing back under control.

“Good girl, deep breaths.”, she soothes, while rubbing calming circles on my side where she had been holding me down. When she finally pulls out of me, I whimper at the loss. I suddenly feel so empty in comparison to just moments ago. “Don’t worry, little Iepuraș. There is plenty more where that comes from.”, she coos, “For now though, do Mami a favore and clean her up again, would you?”, She lifts the hand that had been at my core and offers it to me.

I open my mouth eagerly and obediently take each of her fingers in my mouth, one at a time, and suck and lick them clean. I’ve tested myself before once, out of sheer boredom and curiosity and wasn’t that impressed. But now, lapping it off her skin, it’s heavenly. I moan and close my eyes, letting myself suck on her fingers a little longer than necessary.

She laughs “Offaly eager, aren't we?”, she tuts, pulling her finger from my mouth. I whine and lean up after her, wanting more. “Now, now. None of that.”, she scolds, pushing me back down and pinning me there. “Only good girls get reworded.”

“I’m sorry, Mami.”, I put my hands over her’s, where she held me down by the soldiers and try to look as cute as possible, “I’ll be good.” I mumble timidly.

“That’s better.”, she purrs in approval. “Now-”, she sets up and moves back over the picnic blanket, leaving me there flustered and disheveled in the flowers, “Why don’t you come over here and eat some more for Mami? I interrupted your meal rather early on to feast on my own, I’m sure you’re still hungry.”

I want to argue, to beg for her to come back over here instead, but I know she’s right. My stomach even growls in conformation, so I fix my skirt and pull on my dress laces to tighten them. Leaving it untied though, I get up and sit back down on the blanket waiting patiently for her to feed me again.

“Oh no.”, she shakes her head. “I won’t be feeding you this time, we both know where that will lead, and you need to eat.” she scolds, picking up her long forgotten glass of wine and taking a sip. I pout, before complying and picking up a cracker with cheese. She nods in approval. “Remember good girls get reworded. And good girls don’t pout.” At that, I perk up and rush to finish my food.

As the contents of the basket starts to dwindle, Mami starts praising me with kisses for each bit of food I finish. I bask in the attention until both the basket and Mami’s wine glass are empty. She only has the one glass, saving the rest of the bottle for the girls. “My sip from you was rather filling.” she comments when I give her a skeptical look. Deciding not to argue, as she has daughters to feed, I instead help her pack up the picnic and carry it back inside.

Once back in the castle walls, we run into the girls lounging around in the front sitting room. They perk up upon our entry and look at each other knowingly. “What have you two been up to?” Daniela asks teasingly.

“You know very well, Glinda and I went on a picnic. You helped me set it up.” Mami sighs, raising an eyebrow at her quizzically.

“Yeah, But we didn’t know Glinda herself was on the menu.” Willa laughs.

Mami looks at them skeptically before looking down at me and covering her mouth in embarrassment. She suppresses a nervous laugh and clears her throat. “What?” I ask obliviously.

Daniela bursts out laughing, “She doesn’t know? Oh this is priceless!”

“Know what?” I start to whine as I get nervous about the answer.

“We need to get you cleaned up, Sweetheart.” Mami answers gently.

It’s then that I realize how disheveled I must look, and rush over to the wall hanging mirror across the room. My hair is a disaster, and treated with leaves and blades of grass. The laces of my dress are tightened for modesty, but still untied. Mami’s lipstick is smeared all over my lips, chin, neck, and chest. And most damning of all, the bite mark Mami gave me is slightly swollen and very bruised. Vany yellow and purple bruising branches out from the punchers and spreads across my neck, all the way from my jaw line down to the top of my shoulder. I suppose I should have mentioned to Mami how easily I bruise.

“Oh” I say simply.

“So…” Daniela comes up behind me and wraps an arm around my shoulders “Good time?”, she asks playfully.

“Enough Dani. Leave her alone.” Daci whines, clearly wanting to change the subject. She looks like she’s gonna be sick.

“Yes, I would agree. That’s enough, Daniela.” Mami chimes in, approaching us to shoo Dani away. She nudges me out of the room by the shoulders “Come, let's go get you cleaned up,”, she states, “and get out of this conversation before it gets anymore embarrassing.” she mumbles under her breath to me as we leave.

I laugh quietly “Yes please, let's.” I let her lead me away from the sitting room and up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was something...  
> writing smut in first person is ... weird. So Im sorry if this chapter seems awkward or stilted, it's just because I'm not used to writing smut in this fashion. I'll hopefully get better at it with more practice.  
> Anyhow, thanks so much for reading, and thank you everyone who's been supportive of this fic, It really means a lot.


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